#As like. At least ten years younger than him in the elementary to middle school range and bothering him as a trio of junior ballerinas or
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angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;
pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader
word count 11k
synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you.
content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood
author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3
Don’t do it.
He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)
He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.
(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.
And he does.
Every. Single. Time.)
For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.
(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.
After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)
The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.
As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.
Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.
Don’t do it.
He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes.
The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.
“Move.”
It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.
“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.
School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.
The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.
For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.
And they’re not wrong, anyway.
(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)
Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.
Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.
(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)
No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.
And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.
“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.
(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)
“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.
He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.
Little boy.
He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.
“Leave him alone.”
Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.
Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.
He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.
You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.
All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.
“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”
The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.
“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.
“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.
Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.
But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.
“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”
“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”
“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”
The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.
After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.
You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.
“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”
It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.
Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.
“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.
“We’re not friends.”
“Too late. I told my dad we were.”
There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.
You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.
“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.
“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?
“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”
“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.
(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”
Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)
People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.
(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)
“Hmm. Okay.”
But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.
The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.
You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.
“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.
“What’s this for?”
“For you to eat, silly.”
“...How much?”
“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.
“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”
“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.
Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)
“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”
He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.
“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”
Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.
Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.
“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”
“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”
“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.
No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.
“And yet, you’re still always here.”
You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.
(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.
Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.
Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.
“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”
You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.
You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.
“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.
If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.
Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)
You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.
(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.
“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.
“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.
“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”
“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?
“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”
“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”
The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.
“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.
“Are you sure about that?”
You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.
“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.
You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.
For your words to be true.)
You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.
So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.
He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.
(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”
“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.
“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)
It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.
Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.
Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.
It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.
Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.
Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.
“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.
“No.”
You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.
“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.
“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.
It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.
“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”
“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.
“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.
(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)
There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.
You like Megumi.
Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.
And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.
It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.
It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.
Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.
He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?
Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.
Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.
Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.
You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.
gumi <3: where are you?
gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home.
gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now
Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.
You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.
Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.
He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.
Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…
Do you hate him now?
It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.
He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.
If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.
You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.
He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.
“Ow, man, what the fuc—”
“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.
“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”
Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.
He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.
He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.
It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.
The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.
The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.
It’s locked.
His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.
Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away.
He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.
It’s a phone ringing.
He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”
Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.
The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.
“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”
He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.
“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.
The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.
It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.
The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.
“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.
Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.
The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.
Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.
“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.
As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now?
You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”
“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.
The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.
The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.
It’s only a matter of time.
You’re too good to be true.
You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.
“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.
You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.
“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.
Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.
“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.
“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.
You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.
“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.
“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.
“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that? I could fuck you forever.”
His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.
“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.
There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.
“Daddy, daddy, daddy.”
Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.
He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.
“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”
“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.
“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.
“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”
He’s silent for a minute.
“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.
You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”
Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.
Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.
Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.
He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.
And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.
Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.
Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?
It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.
He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.
Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.
Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.
“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”
“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”
“So then why do you have to go look for it?”
“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”
At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.
From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.
Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.
Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—
—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.
In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.
#megumi fushiguro x you#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi fushiguro x y/n#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#megumi x reader#angst#fluff#one shot#drabble#smut#megumi smut#jjk smut#jjk imagines#yakuza au#THIS IS SO OLD IM CRYING#like rereading it... omg what was i ON???
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I KNOw we couldn’t spare the time for it in CK but Jesper has such “grew up with sisters“ energy that in my heart of hearts and the good Aus aditi is alive and Jesper has at least three annoying kid sisters
#Secret good ck the entire colm plotline happened whilst his lil sis was being schlepped around too with the rest of them#After Kaz and Jesper has their beat down fight she was like oh my GOOOODDDDDR you are so fucking screwed you’re going to be toast bitchface#Aditi and colm seem like they might have had Jesper really young before they were quite planning too so the idea of jespers little sisters#As like. At least ten years younger than him in the elementary to middle school range and bothering him as a trio of junior ballerinas or#Something. It charms me#Jesper fahey
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Southpaw
pairing: jungkook x female reader (ft. a little sprinkle of namjoon)
genre: childhood friends to lovers, boxer jungkook, college/frat au
includes: swearing, angst, mentions of blood and violence, pining, smut (public/private, unprotected sex, hair pulling, jungkook is big guys, duh), alcohol, smoking weed, jungkook seems like an asshole but he’s really not, OC having a crisis every two seconds, some fluff here and there as well, also this takes place over many months just saying if time gets confusing
premise: Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.
word count: 30k (she’s a monster sorry guys)
quick note: this is my first story back in a year(?) give or take some weeks!! kind of nervous to post & not sure if my writing has declined in anyway but nonetheless here is the beast that has been sitting on my computer since April 2019!! quick disclaimer I don’t know much about boxing so if I get stuff wrong - I apologize!! please enjoy & let me know what you think ❤️happy 7 years BTS!
recommended songs for reading: pray (JRY, RuthAnne), mushroom chocolate (6lack, quin), hallucinate (dua lipa), wus good/curious (partynextdoor)
_____
The evening was slow—after all, it was only a Wednesday. You had just finished serving a table of two—a young man and young woman—presumably on a midweek date. You didn’t recognize either of them which wasn’t surprising considering the campus grossed about 20,000 people. You began to wipe down tables out of boredom, glancing at the clock every two minutes hoping it would jump to when your shift was over in forty-five minutes. Thankfully, you didn’t have much work to do when you got home, but you are wishing to get in bed before 10:30 to get a full eight hours of sleep for your lectures tomorrow—something you had not had in about two months. Most days, like today, you were running on five hours of sleep and five cups of coffee. It wasn’t healthy, you knew that much, but it’s how you had to live your life. Your schedule was too demanding to hit the snooze button multiple times. You had shit to do—and getting your degree was the top priority.
“Y/N,” your coworker, Mark, called your name from behind of the counter.
“Yeah?” You respond.
“Will you come help me clean this out?” He asks you and you nod diligently.
“Of course,” you say, dropping your current task of wiping already clean tables. Mark was the one student that worked here you could stand to be around. He was very much like you in the sense that school came before anything—he too was on a full academic scholarship. He worked here before you, but he made you feel the most comfortable out of everyone. You would consider him a close friend at this point.
The espresso machine was a pain in the ass to clean and did call for two people most of the time. Besides, you would rather smell the remnants of coffee beans than the harsh chemicals of bleach gliding across a table.
“You have much work to do after your shift?” He asks you.
“No, thank god,” you shake your head, “I got most of my shit done between my classes today. You?”
“I have to write a ten page paper by midnight,” he sighs, “And guess how many pages I have started.”
You give him a short glance, “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say zero.”
“Damn right,” he smiles. A short silence between you two ensues before he speaks again, “Oh! Did I tell you I’m graduating early?”
“What? Really?” You look at him and an excited grin plays on his face. “When?”
“Yeah, I spoke to my advisor this afternoon and turns out, the classes I’m taking this semester is all I need for my degree,” he speaks with a relieved tone.
“Wow, that’s awesome,” you say genuinely, “I wish that was me,” you give out a small chuckle.
“I’m just glad I don’t have to keep stressing over this hell-hole,” he laughs, “The sooner I get out of here, the better.”
“I feel you on that,” you say, “I’m proud of you nonetheless, you’ve worked your ass off dealing with this scholarship.”
He gives you a small smile in return but it’s broken by the bell ringing from the door, signaling a new customer has decided to come in. Your eyes break from Mark’s and glance over to the door, your head doing a double take.
Your mouth goes dry when you see them—more specifically—him.
No, it wasn’t the first time you’ve seen him, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had seen him outside of a frat party on the weekends. And truly, it was your first time getting a good look at him in awhile. You felt nervous—though you had no reason to be nervous. You had known him since long before your days as university students, but since you weren’t plastered in this scenario, looking at him seemed more like a chore than ever.
“You want me to get their table?” Mark asks you and you look back at him.
“No, I got it,” you say, throwing down the cleaning cloth, wiping your hands on your apron.
The small group of boys are too busy in their own conversation to see you approaching them. You clear your throat before grabbing some menus off of the podium.
“Hey guys, welcome,” your voice breaks their conversation. The three men your age turn to you all at once and a small smile erupts from one of them.
“Y/N? I didn’t know you worked here?” Taehyung—another person you knew all too well—smiles and speaks brightly
“Yup,” you say simply, “Just been here a little over a month,” you explain pressing the best smile you can muster up. “C’mon, I’ll get you seated and get your order in.”
You lead them towards the back of the small restaurant, seating them in a booth. As they follow you from behind, you can feel their eyes burning into your back and you feel like screaming at the top of your lungs. They sit down and you pass out the menus.
“What would you guys like to drink?” You ask, putting a hand on your hip.
“I’ll take a coke,” Hobi—you remember his name easily as you see him around in a few of your classes.
“Coke as well,” Taehyung says.
“Jungkook?” His name rolls off your tongue and it sounds foreign. You couldn’t remember the last time you had said it, let alone to his face. His brown eyes meet yours and he clears his throat.
“I’ll just take a water,” he finally speaks, his gaze breaking just as fast as it met yours.
“I’ll get those right out,” a grimace spreads on your face and you turn on your heels to fulfill their drink orders. You hadn’t expected the encounter to be so awkward and have so much tension—but what did you expect?
Your relationship with Jeon Jungkook was a strange one to say the least. You had known him longer than anyone you associated with—you meet each other at the tender age of eight in elementary school. You remember that day so vividly.
You had been assigned a seat right beside of him the first day of school. He kept his eyes away from you. Being the energetic child you were, you were expecting him to introduce himself but—he never did. It actually took being in school a whole week to get him to talk to you. You nudged his arm with your elbow and his eyes meet yours for the first time. You smiled at him, “I like your shirt,” to which he responded a small, “Thank you.” He picked at his nails and you smiled at him again, “I’m Y/N,” though he would already know that sitting beside of you. “I’m Jungkook,” he spoke again with a shy smile. That day would change both of your lives—all thanks to you and your mouth that couldn’t shut the hell up.
Four years later, at the age of twelve, Jungkook was your best friend. For four years, he was the one person you had came to all about your problems—he as well. The two of you would complain equally about school, he would complain about his older brother picking on him, you would complain about your younger sister bothering you nonstop—the two of you were more alike in more ways than you could imagine. Despite getting older and more different, you and Jungkook shared the same friend group. You had met a girl named Kim Jennie during a pre-algebra class and Jungkook had met a lively kid named Kim Taehyung—no they weren’t related but you often joked about it. It was nice having another close friend instead of just having Jungkook—especially a girl. You and Jennie had more in common than you and Jungkook and Jungkook and Taehyung and more in common than you two. But—the four of you clicked and you spent nearly everyday with each other.
At sixteen, a lot of stuff had changed. Yes, you, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jennie had all remained best friends, but high school was definitely not the same as middle school. You and Jennie joined the tennis team, Jungkook and Taehyung joined the soccer team—Jungkook also joining the baseball team—which kept the four of you more separated than you would have liked. The four of you all sat together at lunch each day, but as each day passed, something felt different with Jungkook. And then, halfway through your second year of high school, the news broke that Jungkook had a girlfriend—a cute girl named Yuna—who was actually older than him by a year. You felt indifferent about it. He didn’t speak to you as much as he used to and he would ditch you, Jennie and Taehyung to hang out with her. It didn’t bother Jennie or Taehyung as much as it bothered you—but then again—you had known him since you were eight and it felt weird not being Jungkook’s number one girl. You hated to say it—but you were jealous and you had no idea why.
Two years had passed, the four of you all eighteen and fully legal now. It was the end of your last year of high school and you could not be more ready to leave. Growing up through high school together, the thought of all of you going to the same university was a dream. The four of you were excited to move on to new things. Jungkook and Yuna had broken up a few months prior, not being able to work through the distance of her being away at college. Jungkook soon started molding back to how he was before—texting you throughout the day, complaining, just being Jungkook—you were happy, happier than when he was with Yuna. It was May when you had received the news that you had been offered a full ride academic scholarship. You cried and cried tears of joy—finally busting your ass for so long had paid off. Jungkook was so proud of you, though he didn’t outwardly show it, the way he looked at you when you had told him was all you needed. Taehyung suggested it—a small celebration of sorts for you—a.k.a. the four of you getting absolutely plastered in his basement. Taehyung had managed to steal some alcohol from his parents and before the four of you knew it, beers had been downed and half a bottle of tequila had been drank. You were laying on the floor, giggling at everything Jennie did, dancing around the room with a bottle of vodka in hand. Jungkook had laid down beside of you, his eyes boring deep onto you. You crane your neck and give him a small smile, not realizing how little space was between the two of you. Jungkook supports himself on an elbow and it was then you had realized how handsome Jungkook had actually become. He spent so long away from you when he was dating Yuna, you didn’t realize how much he had grown into his features. That night—was singlehandedly the best and worst night of your life.
You had no idea what came over you, but you stood up throwing out your hand for Jungkook to take. He grabbed it with no hesitation, him towering over you as your chests touched and it was the closest the two of you had ever been. Jungkook had looked over to Jennie and Taehyung, still drinking and acting stupid, before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the closest bathroom and shutting the door. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you grip his shirt tightly. The next few moments are a blur—Jungkook kisses you—actually kisses you. He gripped your waist tightly, pushing you against the door. A small whine emitted from your lips as he pulled away and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He kissed you again, pulling your thigh up to rest in his hand. This was wrong—so wrong in so many ways. But neither of you stopped until a bang from the other side of the door broke the steamy makeup session.
That night changed everything between you two. Neither of you talked about it ever again. Despite being so drunk to the point of blacking out—you remember every detail—and so did he. That summer, you and Jungkook grew apart. And it was the worst thing to ever happen to you.
Now, at twenty-one, almost through university, you had interacted with Jungkook only a handful of times. You had studied together a few times your freshman year, but after your first year, you could count on your hands how many times you had seen each other. Most of the time, only seeing him at parties with other girls hanging off of him. It was painful to see. Even after 3 years of a drunken kiss in Taehyung’s bathroom, it hurt more than ever to see Jungkook with other girls—but at the same time you didn’t care. You had moved on and so did he. You two were now strangers but your life was good—you didn’t need him like you used to think. And he seemingly didn’t either.
“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” Mark nudged you out of your obnoxiously long reverie and you jumped out of your skin. “Are you okay?” He asks.
You look down and realize that you haven’t taken the three of them their drinks, the ice now watering them down to shit.
“Y-yeah, I’m just tired is all,” you begin to pour out the drinks to get new ones before Mark stops you.
“Here, I’ll handle them,” he says, “You can go home early, it’s fine,” he smiles.
“A-are you sure?” You ask him, not wanting to leave him by himself.
“Yeah, it’s about closing time anyways. Just head out, I’ll close,” he nods with a smile and you can’t help but to throw you arms around him.
“Jesus, thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you one day,” you tell him pulling away. You wash your hands quickly and throw off your apron.
“Get home safe,” he says and you tell him the same before grabbing your bag. You glance one last time to the table in the back and unexpectedly, Jungkook is staring at you. It makes your breathing hitch and you turn around on your heel quickly, not wanting to linger on his gaze longer than you need to.
_____
The weekend comes slower than you would like, but it’s Friday which means one thing—time to go out and get a much needed dose of social life. You and Jennie had found yourself at the Beta Tau Sigma crush party at their fraternity house that evening.
“Here you go, m’lady,” Namjoon comes into your peripheral vision, handing you a drink he specially made just for you.
“Thanks,” you give him a small smile. You take a huge gulp without hesitation—you trusted Namjoon with your life. Not only was he on academic scholarship too, he was also the president of this fraternity which meant if he didn’t act straight—he would face serious consequences. The mix of brains, being ridiculously handsome, and being in a fraternity was a recipe for disaster—he was your type—bonafide. You were his type too which is maybe why the two of you clicked so well, particularly in bed.
“My feet are fucking killing me,” you groan glancing down at your heels, rolling your eyes in the back of your head. Namjoon throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.
“At least you look hot as fuck,” he lips brush against your ear and you give him a glare.
“Isn’t hot kind of a degrading term in today’s world?” You press.
He narrows his eyes at you, “Fine—you look beautiful, cute, sexy—is that better?”
“Much better,” you nod playfully and Namjoon gets bold—pulling you even closer to him for a small peck on your lips. Eyes linger on the two of you but you couldn’t care. So many girls would love to be in your position and you feel lucky to have captivated Namjoon at least for now. Besides, he was good at fucking and you needed stress relief, as did he.
Unsuspecting, Jungkook waltzed his way into the room and he immediately stops when he sees the sight of you and his older brother Namjoon. He had heard rumors about the two of you, which he brushed off—you would never go after someone like Namjoon—oh who is he kidding? You and Namjoon are the same person and it kills Jungkook inwardly. The way Namjoon is nuzzled into your neck and the way you're smiling, giggling to every word he says, makes him feel uncomfortable. You looked so different at parties than how he saw you a few days ago at your work. Your legs looked sexy as fuck in your short black dress, your hair flowed down beautifully as opposed to being thrown up, the way red lipstick painted your mouth made him semi hard. Jesus, how after all this time, does he still think about you like this?
Your eyes break away from Namjoon and your smile falls when they meet a familiar set of doe eyes from across the room. Your breath hitches and Jungkook looks so handsome you want to die. His dark hair is slightly parted, his button up is undone at the top, and his legs fulfill his pants better than any guy here. He downs two shots, not breaking his gaze from you. You feel intimidated by his gaze and presence, despite having seen him at these things multiple times. The only difference is that now—he’s giving you some attention that you weren’t ready for.
Your gaze breaks away from each other when a group of loud boys—including Taehyung as well as Kai, another brother within the fraternity—come rushing into the room, hauling a keg in tow.
“Hyung! Come on,” Taehyung teases drunkenly as they set down the keg. There are many hyung’s for Taehyung in the room to not have specified which one he was talking about, until he deadpans on Namjoon. “Namjoon-hyung, come on!”
Namjoon begins to shake his head in protest, “I’d rather not,” he puts his hands up, keeping his distance from Taehyung, “Gotta keep an eye on this one tonight,” he nudges you and Taehyung’s eyes widen when her realizes it’s actually you, standing beside of his older brother.
“Y/N! Hey! What’s up! Didn’t expect to see you here, especially with this one again,” he narrows his eyes to Namjoon.
“Hi Taehyung,” you give him a small smile.
“Do a keg stand with me?” His eyes bulge out like a puppy dog and your own widens in shock at the question.
“Oh no,” you protest, looking up at Namjoon, “Last time I did a keg stand was freshman year and I said never again,” you explain to him. He gives you a pout.
“Fuck,” Taehyung says, “Well who is gonna do this shit with me then?” He sounds impatient and frustrated.
“Get Jungkook too—he’s been looking over in this direction for too long, give ‘em something to do,” Namjoon says and you look up at him. Did he notice Jungkook looking at you? Shit.
“Hell yeah, that little shit will definitely do it,” Taheyung smirks and yells for Jungkook to come over. Jungkook is preoccupied with a girl before Taehyung breaks his mojo from across the room. Jungkook sees Taehyung and you standing together and he furrows his eyebrows. He excuses himself from his pussy date for the night and saunters his way over towards your direction. You keep your eyes anywhere but Jungkook as he approaches you.
“Hey hyung,” Jungkook greets Namjoon, “Y/N,” he says slowly and you tense up. “What do you want Taehyung?” He spits out. He’s clearly buzzed as the attitude coming off of his tongue is stronger than usual.
“Do this fucking keg stand with me pussy,” Taehyung presses and Jungkook scrunches his nose.
“Fuck no,” Jungkook responds and Taehyung rolls his eyes.
“Come onnnn,” he drags out, begging his life long best friend to do it.
“Absolutely not, I’ve done it once and I said never again,” Jungkook says and your eyes nearly pop out of your head. Taehyung looks at you and Jungkook and shakes his head.
“I swear you two are the same person in a different body, it’s weird,” Taehyung says, “Your loss,” and Taehyung is soon leaving your side to find someone else to do his proposition.
Jungkook is left standing in front of you and Namjoon in an awkward silence.
“Don’t forget, you’re on clean up duty Jeon,” Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the younger man.
Jungkook groans, “Fine, whatever hyung,” his words run together as he gives you a final glance, “See you later Y/N,” is the last thing he says before he walks away to find the girl he was smooching up prior.
Namjoon gives you a weird look before you are furrowing eyebrows at him, “What?” You ask.
“What’s up with you two?” He asks motioning over to Jungkook.
“What do you mean?” You gulp down your drink hoping to hide the nervousness in your tone.
“Didn’t you two use to be like, best friends or some shit?” He asks.
You shrug your shoulders, “Yeah, when we were kids,” you chuckle.
Namjoon doesn’t seemed convinced, “I remember you two hanging out a lot during Jungkook's freshman year here, what happened?”
You shrug once again, “People grow apart,” you answer simply, not wanting to go in detail how one kiss basically ruined whatever your friendship was with him. Namjoon suddenly smiles, a dimple showing in his left cheek.
“You know he talks about how hot you are? Not all of the time, but I’ve heard it before,” he laughs and you freeze in your spot.
“What are you trying to prove by interrogating me Joon?” You say with some attitude. That was the least thing you expected to come out of his mouth.
“Hey, I’m just asking questions!” He defends himself, “I just didn’t know if something happened between you two—like you dated or something and shit got weird, I don’t know… just curious,” he chuckles a bit.
You eyes widen and you feel yourself getting warm, “Oh no, we never dated or…anything like that…” you trail off. “We’ve just grown apart, we’re too different now.”
Namjoon raises an eyebrow at you, “According to Taehyung you two are the same person.”
You glare at him, “Get me another drink,” you shove your cup into his hand and see laughs at you before sauntering away for a few seconds. He comes back with a full glass and you down half of it in a few seconds.
“Ew,” you scrunch up your nose. Nice, you think to yourself.
“Maybe you should talk to him? I’m sure having an old friend is nice every once in awhile,” Namjoon continues, clearly interested in your history with Jungkook.
“I have Jennie,” you answer, “Besides, conversation goes both ways. If he really wanted to be friends again, he could talk to me.” You knew that answer was stupid. Jungkook didn’t even speak to you when you were younger. You were the one that initiated the friendship, not him, and you knew that.
“Whatever you say space cowboy,” Namjoon draws out and you give him a glare.
“Did you just quote Kacey Musgraves?” You ask with a small smile on your face.
“Fuck yeah I did,” he smirks, “She’s a gay icon are you kidding me, I’m obsessed with her.”
“Joonie, you’re not even gay,” you laugh.
“So? I love anyone who supports gay rights! Don’t discriminate my quotes!” He defends himself and you cannot help but laugh at him.
“Let’s go dance,” you grab his hand and pull him out of the kitchen onto the main dance floor. Namjoon was perhaps one of the more attractive people you’ve met here in your four years. He oozed sex appeal and charisma, which is why anytime he wanted to hang out or take you to a party—you obliged. If it meant getting in his bed at the end of the night, wearing the heels was worth it.
Namjoon puts his hands on your waist and the two of you dance to music in the crowded dance floor. Namjoon grabs a bottle of liquor from one of his other brothers who you have never met before and the two of you share a nice gulp of the cheap—but very strong—vodka.
You haven’t had too much to drink but you know if you drink anymore, you will not make it back to your apartment. You push the bottle away from you and turn to face Namjoon. His brown eyes stare into yours with a glassy, tipsy appearance, and he smirks at you.
“What?” You question him as his grip gets tighter on you.
“I wasn’t lying when I said you looked hot,” he says smoothly and you roll your eyes yet again.
“How sweet,” you grumble, biting down on your bottom lip. Without a warning, he leans in and pecks your lips gently. The alcohol in your veins surges through you as you lean back in and close the gap. Even in your heels, you still have to crane your neck some to fully reach his stature. His hands grip your waist tightly and you tug at his light brown locks, pulling him impossibly closer to you.
He presses himself into you a little bit harder and you can tell he wants you, his hands gripping one at your waist and the other one in your hair. Everything around you goes blank was it only feels like the two of you in the room together. Unfortunately, your moment is ruined when someone bumps into the two of you, knocking you apart. Namjoon steadies you and he glares at the two girls that ran into you.
“You want to get out of here?” Namjoon says into your ear, his breath fanning over your neck sending chills down you body.
“Yeah,” you nod a little too excitedly and he grabs your hand pulling you away from everyone. Namjoon is taking you up the stairs before someone calls out your name.
“Y/N!” You turn around in Namjoon’s grip to find Jennie holding onto the railing of the stairs, swaying back and forth drunkenly.
“Oh god,” you mutter.
“Is she okay?” Namjoon asks as he follows behind you back down the stairs. No, in fact, she looks terrible.
“Jennie, what’s up? I thought you were with Suzy?” You ask her and her face scowls.
“I was, but then… he showed up,” Jennie says, knowing exactly who she is talking about, “And he brought another girl with him! Y/N, what’s wrong with me? Am I not good enough for him?” Jennie is rambling as tears began to flow down her face. You look at Namjoon as he assesses the situation.
“I-I can get an Uber for her, if you’d like?” Namjoon offers and you nod.
“Please?” You beg and Namjoon grabs your hand squeezing it reassuringly before walking away to get the car.
“Jennie, come on, snap out of it,” you tell her and she continues to sob in your arms.
“Y/N, I don’t get it, I love him and he says he loves me but he does this shit all of the time,” she rambles.
“I know, I know,” you try to calm her down, “Jennie your drunk right now, but you’re so much better than him. I know you don’t realize it, but you are—“
“He makes me feel like shit,” Jennie sighs and you cradle your friend. Unfortunately, Jennie doesn’t have the best taste in men and she finds herself stuck in toxic situations she can’t get out of. You wish you could help more then you do but when Jennie is drunk, it’s hard to get anything through to her.
“Come on, let’s go to the bathroom,” you pull her up before she starts fighting you.
“I don’t need to use the bathroom though,” she pouts.
“Well, you might, let’s go,” you manage to hold her up and get to a bathroom in a hallway that isn’t too crowded. You reach for the handle only to be disappointed that it’s locked. Great.
You beat on the door with your free hand, “Hurry up in there! I have a crisis hanging off of my arm!”
“Hey, don’t call me that you bitch,” Jennie frowns and you roll your eyes, knowing she won’t remember any of this in the morning. You beat on the door again and again and again and finally, someone unlocks it and opens it fully.
The sight makes your eyes widen and your body heat up on fire. In front of you stands Jungkook against the counter zipping up his pants and the girl he was with earlier standing from her knees, wiping her mouth with a smirk. She leaves the bathroom, leaving you standing there with Jennie alone. When his eyes meet yours, his face goes ghostly pale. His mouth parts open and he feels like crawling into a hole to die.
“Y/N, Jennie?” Is all that comes from his mouth.
“Move Jungkook,” you say sternly and he moves to make room for you two in the bathroom.
“Uh, do you need any—“
“Leave Jungkook, I don’t need any help,” you say frustrated at the sight you just witnessed. You don’t know why you felt angry at him. You knew that he slept around like most fraternity boys—but to see him after getting sucked off in a bathroom—was new territory. Not only did it bring up the memory of you and him back in Taehyung’s bathroom all those years ago, it made you physically sick to know that you were just a pawn for him then. Who are you trying to kid? You were nothing to him. Once he figured out what his dick was used for, that’s all he cared about. Christ, you say to yourself, fuck him.
Jungkook leaves the two of you alone and within seconds, Jennie is over the toilet hurling her entire stomach up. You hold her hair back as she heaves into the toilet, trying not to gag yourself.
“Y/N,” she mumbles, “I don’t feel good.”
“I know, just keep it in the toilet please,” you say looking away at the sight.
Thankfully, Namjoon appears at the door. “The Uber is here,” he announces.
“Come on, we’re going to get you home,” you tell her, wiping her mouth with some toilet paper.
“Home?” She asks, “Thank god.”
Namjoon grabs her other side as the two of you carry her outside into the fresh air. You have to admit, the fresh air as sobered you up slightly. You spot the car waiting up front and Namjoon opens the door for Jennie.
“Thank you so much,” you tell Namjoon as he helps Jennie into the car.
“It’s seriously not a problem,” he smiles, “You should go with her,” he suggests and you feel your heart drop.
“A-are you sure?” You ask, subtle disappointment in your tone.
“Yeah, it’s fine—we’ll pick up another time,” he gives you a wink and you smile back.
“Okay, thanks again.”
You load into the back of the Uber with Jennie and you just pray that she doesn’t hurl in the car, for the sake of you and the Uber driver’s car. You were not about to pay the $200 fee for puke in the backseat.
_____
The next morning comes all too quickly in your deep sleep. When you wake up, you are not expecting Jennie to be in your bed with you. You had nearly forgotten she refused to sleep in her own bed last night, therefore you having to give in to her wishes of sleeping with you. Thankfully, you don’t feel like you have too bad of a hangover. For Jennie though, you know she will probably be in bed all day with a bottle of Tylenol at her bedside.
You check your phone and your eyes nearly burst from your head. It’s 1:07 PM.
“Fuck,” you groan to yourself. You did not need to sleep this late considering you absolutely needed to study for your exams on Monday. Not only was it an exam—it was your midterm exams in your human sciences and financial analytics classes, two classes that were kicking your ass. The longer you laid in your bed, meant the longer you were losing time to cram in your studying. You swig the sheets and blankets off of you to find yourself still in your party dress from last night. You grab a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt from your wardrobe before heading to the bathroom.
Your appearance makes you shudder when you seeing yourself in the mirror. You didn’t even take off your makeup, mascara and lipstick stains spread out on your face. Now it was time to really pray that you wouldn’t breakout from the old layer of foundation on your face. You grab a makeup wipe to get the gunk off of yourself before you step into an insanely hot shower.
You manage to shower quickly, scrubbing your body and face off of any stench left of you from last night. You step out, moisturizing each crevice that you can reach before you throw on your clothes. You feel 200% better now that you have showered and you can hear footsteps coming down from the hallway. Jennie appears at the bathroom door rubbing her eyes harshly.
“Good morning sleepyhead,” you comment and she stretches out her limbs, her dress hiked up far up her legs where her underwear is showing.
“Ugh!” She groans loudly, “My head is pounding. What the fuck happened last night?”
“There’s some medicine out in the kitchen,” you say as you follow her out into your living room and kitchen area. She goes immediately to the medicine cabinet and downs two pills with ease.
“Where are you going?” She asks as you began to gather up your school work into your book-bag.
“I have to study,” you tell her and she closes her eyes again, the sun being too harsh for the light.
“It’s Saturday Y/N,” she says obviously.
“I know,” you zip up your bag, throwing it over your shoulder, “But I have two midterms Monday—I can’t make below a B or I can get in trouble with the dean,” you explain and she nods, her sleepy gaze staring at you.
“Well, have fun. I’ll be here—dying,” she grins and you salute her off, leaving your shared apartment to go to the campus library.
The library is only about a ten minute walk and thankfully, not many students are flocking to the location on a Saturday afternoon. You assume that everyone is either hungover like Jennie or just don’t give a shit enough to come out and study.
You grab a coffee from the small coffee shop outside the library before you go in, sit down, and get to work on your studying. You turn on your classical music radio as you take out out your printed slides, notes, and textbooks. As strange as it is to say, as much as you hated studying—it’s where you felt the most comfortable. You knew you were smart and you knew school was your strongest trait—everyone knew that about you.
You go through each chapter of your human sciences class, writing and rewriting notes on new sheets of a paper. You make flashcards as you go along. You answer the obnoxiously long quiz questions at the end of your textbook as you go along.
Thankfully, you haven’t had any distractions and before you know it, it’s been nearly two hours since you first sat down. Your coffee is now cold but you don’t care as you need the caffeine to keep you going. You are about to pull out all of your analytics material before suddenly, a coffee cup in placed on the table in front of you. You look at the source and look back down until you look up again.
“Jungkook?” You ask pulling out one of your earbuds. His face is tired, the bags underneath his eyes prominent. He’s wearing a gray tracksuit, his hair messy underneath his somewhat contained beanie.
“H-hi,” he says simply, “Can I sit?” He asks referring to the chair across from you. You nod as he slings his backpack off and into the floor as he plops down in the chair.
“Hi,” you speak lowly. There’s tension between the two of you. It’s uncomfortable. You hate it, almost as much as you hate the sight you saw last night. “What’s up?” The question is simple, but forced.
He shrugs, “I dragged myself out to study despite my busting headache,” he says scratching the back of his neck.
“Jungkook in the library? To study? Did I hear that right?” You ask and he laughs slightly.
“Yup, unfortunately you did,” he answers before letting out a sigh. “I uh, got you this,” he slides the coffee cup over to you and you furrow your brows. You face heats up. Why would he buy you a coffee? The time Jungkook bought you something was a card and flowers the evening of your high school graduation, why the hell would he buy you a coffee?
“Thanks,” you laugh awkwardly grabbing the cup from him. You take a sip from the cup and realize it’s exactly how you like it. Three creams, an espresso shot, and a dash of vanilla flavoring. “How’d you know this is what I like?” You ask.
“Uh, you told me a few years back,” he says shy, his gaze ripping away from you. “I assumed it was the same, thank god,” he laughs trying to lighten up the mood.
“Thanks,” you repeat, unsure of what to say.
“Uh, how’s Jennie this morning?” He asks you with a genuine concern. You look from him, not being able to hold his gaze without burning up.
“She’s fine,” you say, keeping your eyes on your notes and hands in front of you.
“That’s good,” he says awkwardly. His leg is bouncing uncontrollably underneath the table and he feels like he needs to throw up.
“Why did you buy me this?” You ask him. He wants something, you can feel it.
“Um, no reason, I-I just saw you h-here and I know how much you love coffee,” he stumbles over his words and you meet his gaze again, before giving him a glare.
“Hm,” you mumble.
“Listen Y/N,” he starts, sounding more clear of his words, “I know we don’t really have a relationship anymore but, I-I just wanted to apologize to you about… the bathroom… last night,” he sighs and he hangs his head down for a second.
Your expression is blank and you shrug your shoulders with a small head shake, “Don’t worry about it.”
He nods slowly before a silence falls between you two.
“Listen, um I really have to get back to studying for my midterm tomorrow. Thank you again for the coffee,” you say with a small smile, trying your best to be cordial with him.
He nods getting ready to stand up but he stops abruptly, “What are you doing this week?”
The question catches you off guard.
“Oh, um,” your mouth is dry and it’s hard to find the words, “Probably studying, working, I don’t know,” you shrug again.
“Well uh, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up?” He bits his lip nervously, “We haven’t hung out in awhile, I thought maybe we could catch up?”
Awhile would be an understatement. The boy and you exchange another glance before you begin to nod hesitantly.
“Sure,” you answer simply.
“Cool,” he responds, “You still have the same number?” He asks. The question is weird. How is it that your best friend of so many years has to ask if your number is the same?
“Yeah,” you nod. He nods too, saying a quick goodbye before you watch as his built frame disappears into another corridor of the library, your eyes lingering a little too long on his built frame. What the hell was that?
_____
On Monday, both of your exams go a lot better than you were expecting them to. Your human sciences exam had already been graded and you made a 94 which in turn meant you were over the moon. Now you could only hope for that in analytics.
You know sat across from Jennie at one of your campus’s sandwich shops eating a late lunch.
“I don’t even know why you stress so much about your grades Y/N,” Jennie says, “You always end up with an A.”
“Jennie, I worry because if I don’t get A’s I can get kicked out of the honors program, you know this,” you say with pointed eyes, “Besides, I made a B in that business statistics class I had my freshman year, I’m still pissed about that!”
“Boohoo, I got a C minus in that class,” Jennie rolls her eyes, “All I’m saying is, you just need to loosen up. I know school is stressful but I know that you have to be going crazy.”
“I am going crazy Jennie,” you whine, “I’m just glad we don’t have much longer,” you sigh heavily.
“You and me both,” she adds, “I’m sorry I interrupted your stress relief the other night,” she says.
“What?”
She laughs, “You almost got dicked down by Namjoon and I ruined it,” she pouts and you giggle at her.
“It’s fine,” you shake your head, “He said we could pick it up another time.”
“Good, his fine piece of ass is something you gotta keep,” she smirks. Suddenly, your phone makes a ding on the table and you grab it quickly. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the text message.
[3:32 PM Jeon Jungkook] hey do you still want to do something this week?
“Who is that?” Jennie asks you.
“Uh, nobody,” you shake your head putting the phone back down.
“It most definitely is not nobody—your eyes are huge,” she points out. Dammit.
“Um,” you start, “Well last week at work, Jungkook, Taehyung, and their friend Hobi came in later at night,” you tell her, “And it was awkward and then I saw Jungkook at the party on Saturday.”
“We see him all the time at the parties we go,” she shrugs.
“I know, but then he came up to me in the library the other day…and bought me a coffee,” you finish.
Jennie’s eyes widen. “What?”
“I know right,” you say.
“Wonder what he wants from you?” She purses her lips.
“He asked if he wanted to go out this week,” you shrug, “He said we haven’t in awhile and he wanted to ‘catch up’,” you say.
Jennie’s eyebrows furrow. “Hm,” she mumbles, “Well are you going to?”
“I don’t know,” you tell her honestly, “I think I’ve seen enough of him to last me awhile.”
Jennie grimaces at you, “Come on Y/N,” she says, “You and Jungkook used to be inseparable, I don’t even know what the fuck happened to you two.”
“We just grew apart Jennie,” you tell her.
“Friendships like you and Jungkook don’t just ‘grow apart’,” she uses air quotes.
“Believe what you want,” you mutter, picking at your food suddenly not feeling too hungry.
“Why wouldn’t you go? There’s nothing stopping you is there?” She presses.
“Not exactly, but… I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” you mumble.
“Y/N, he’s your oldest friend,” she says, “You’ve known him longer than anyone else here, I know that you miss him as your friend,” she goes on.
“I don’t know Jennie, we’re not the same people we used to be. We’re not compatible as friends anymore, it’s weird.”
“How can it already be weirder than it is now? It’s weird as fuck that you two grew up together and don’t speak to each other anymore. I’d say go, just hangout, who knows what might happen,” she reasons and you cannot help but agree with her.
You don’t say anything else as you pull your phone back out.
[3:38 PM Me] Yeah I’m free tonight if you want to do something!
_____
Jungkook picks you up at seven on the dot. You feel nervousness settling in your stomach and you suddenly care about your appearance. When you open the door of your apartment and welcome him in, you have to tell yourself to keep your mouth closed.
He’s dressed in a sweatshirt and ripped jeans but he looks…so good? You hope you aren’t overdressed in your dress and denim jacket and he smiles when he meets your gaze.
“Hey,” he greets you and you welcome him into your apartment—a place he has never been.
“Hi,” you say grabbing your keys from the kitchen. “Jennie!” You shout and she emerges from the laundry room
“Yeah?” She stops dead in her tracks when she sees Jungkook. “Oh, hey Jungkook.”
“Hi,” he smiles.
“I’ll be back later,” you tell her, “What are you doing tonight?”
“I have to write a report and I guess I’m going to do your laundry since you’re lazier than shit,” she presses. You throw up your middle finger and turn to Jungkook.
“You ready?”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
_____
“Where are we going?” You ask him as you make your way outside, keeping a relative distance between you and him.
“You hungry?” Jungkook proposes, almost with a playful tone.
“Mhm,” you mumble, looking down at the ground as you walk. This was weird… so fucking weird. The last time you and Jungkook had hung out was around two and a half years ago—not even shitting. You wonder if he still liked the same things, had the same hobbies, ate the same food, but you were completely unsure of yourself in this circumstance. The nervousness hasn’t settled in your stomach and your mind wonders if he’s nervous too.
“Alright, c’mon,” he says and you meet his gaze before he changes direction with you in tow.
It’s not even a five minute walk—mind you, in silence—until we reach the place Jungkook had led you to.
“Really Jungkook?” You raise an eyebrow at him as you step into your all too familiar work place.
“What?” He laughs, “The food is good,” he continues.
“I’m starting to think you brought me here for my employee discount,” you press to him and he tilts his head.
“You have an employee discount?” He repeats, “Good to know,” he chuckles and in turn, you return a small laugh, feeling a little more comfortable.
Mark isn’t working tonight, but unfortunately, a girl named Kyla is and you absolutely despise her. Her biggest personality trait is just being a bitch—a bitch for no reason! Sure, you can have your bitchy moments but you’re not going to be a bitch to someone unless they deserve it.
“Y/N… Jungkook,” Kyla says slowly, looking between the two of you. “Just sit wherever you like,” she says. The restaurant is free real estate as you two are the only ones here.
You choose a booth, sliding in on one side, Jungkook on the other.
“Do you know her?” You ask Jungkook once she walks away from your table.
Jungkook looks pale, “I’ve met her, once or twice,” he says and it’s all the confirmation you need to understand that means he’s fucked her once or twice.
You don’t say anything else as you look through the menu, already knowing exactly what you want.
“When did you start working here?” Jungkook asks you.
“Oh, about a month ago,” you say. He already knows that. I guess you and Jungkook are really too that point, huh? Small, dull, repetitive conversation?
“How did your exams go?” He asks, chewing on his bottom lip. He’s nervous—you can sense it.
“Better than I thought,” you answer honestly.
“Hm, let me guess—you thought you did terrible but ended up getting an A,” he reads you perfectly.
“Hey! I don’t think like that,” you say even thought you know that is a fat lie.
“Come on Y/N, you’ve been that way since we were fourteen. Lying sends you to hell you know,” he raises an eyebrow at you and you look away from him to suppress your laugh.
“Fine. I got a 94 on one of them, I don’t know about the other one yet,” you tell him.
“See, you’re a genius,” he says and you shake your head.
“Most definitely not,” you say.
“I was always so envious of you growing up, you just sat there in school and you just… got it,” he says remembering back to your younger days, “All of us were jealous of you,” he adds.
“I can guarantee nobody was jealous of me Jungkook,” you give him a grimace, “We all were stupid in our own ways, maybe you more than anyone else,” you decide to pick on him since you’re feeling more relaxed as the conversation keeps going.
“Hey, no need to shit on me like that,” he gives you a pout.
Your phone suddenly vibrates against the table. It’s probably Jennie, you think to yourself as you flip the phone over. To your surprise, it’s not Jennie—It’s Namjoon.
[7:28 PM Kim Namjoon] hope you had a good day
[7:29 PM Kim Namjoon] mine would be a lot better if you were sitting on my cock right now
Your eyes widen and you flip the phone back over with a slam to the table. Jungkook looks at you curiously.
“Whose that?” He asks.
You want to lie, but Jungkook can tell when you’re lying. “Just Namjoon,” you tell him, “He was asking about some homework.”
Jungkook nods slowly before chewing on his bottom lip again, “You and hyung are good friends?”
Your face drops and you don’t say anything.
“I’m just asking since I’ve seen you guys together at our parties,” he adds while clearing his throat.
“Yeah, we’re friends,” is all that comes from your mouth. Jungkook’s eyes are hard to read but you can tell he knows you’re not saying what you’re actually thinking. What he wants you to do is be honest with him and tell him that yeah, you and Namjoon fuck from time to time, but of course, he doesn’t get that answer.
About twenty minutes later, Kyla is bringing your food.Your stomach growls as the scent of the food comes into your nostrils. The two of you begin eating, keeping some small talk between the two of you.
“Are you still a business major?” You ask him as you chow down on your French fries loaded with ketchup.
Jungkook scrunches his face up, “Hell no,” he shakes his head.
You stop your chewing momentarily, “Oh,” is all you can muster. “I’m sure that went over well with your father.”
Jungkook gives you a short glance, a smirk across his face, “It went as well as you can imagine.”
Growing up, Jungkook was expected to go to college, get a business degree of some kind and him and his older brother were to takeover his father’s company by the time he was 30—you would know, Jungkook would secretly complain to you about nonstop as teenagers.
“What are majoring in now?”
“Photography and film,” he answers boldly.
“Oh, wow,” you tell him, “That’s a big move.”
“I’d rather die than being forced to do something I don’t want to do, that’s no way to live life,” he munches on his burger, his eyes looking straight into yours.
“How’s Taehyung?” You ask him.
“He’s good,” he laughs a little bit, “Would you believe it if I told you he has a girlfriend?” He cocks his head slightly.
“Taehyung? And a girlfriend?” You say in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope,” he chuckles, “It’s weird though, he won’t introduce me to her, hell he won’t even tell me her name.”
You furrow your eyebrows, “That is weird,” you pause, “Maybe he thinks you’ll steal her,” you smirk jokingly.
Jungkook shakes his head, “Taehyung’s got more game than I do, trust me,” he says with a laugh.
“I’m assuming you don’t have a girlfriend?” You ask him nervously, biting down on your bottom lip.
Jungkook stops eating and rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek, “No, I haven���t dated anyone since Yuna really.”
The confession surprises you and you somewhat don’t believe him.
“Why not?” You press.
He shrugs, “Just haven’t found anyone I like I guess, like, really like, you know?”
You nod understandingly. Before Namjoon (whom you aren’t even dating) you had dated this guy for awhile and he was nice but you were bored as fuck in that relationship. Thankfully, you moved on from that onto better things.
Once the two of you finish your meals, Jungkook pays before you can protest and you leave the restaurant around 8:30 PM. You shove your hands into your jacket and walk along beside of Jungkook, lazily kicking rocks when you come across them.
“So, what did I do to deserve a free meal and a coffee from Jeon Jungkook in the span of two days?” You look up at him and he glances down to you quickly.
“I said I wanted to catch up, how else was I supposed to do that?” He smirks and you hit his arm playfully.
You don’t say anything so he continues.
“I don’t know, it’s just when I saw you last week working, I hadn’t seen you in so long… let alone speak to you,” he pauses, “It made me realize that I miss our friendship, I missed us…” he trails off, looking straight ahead.
“Why didn’t you reach out sooner?” You ask him seriously.
Jungkook hesitates some, “You could have reached out too, the phone works both ways” his words are unexpected, harsh. And they somewhat hurt.
You don’t say anything again, feeling a sting in your chest.
“I didn’t mean it like that Y/N,” Jungkook say, stopping his path to stand in front of you, “It’s just… we haven’t spoken in so long. I feel like you’re a completely different person ever since we got here to university. I don’t know what happened—“
“You don’t know what happened?” Your tone is sharp. “Are you stupid Jungkook?”
He looks taken aback, “W-what?”
“When we were eighteen and you fucking kissed me that’s what happened and that’s when shit changed Jungkook, don’t act like you don’t know,” you sound angry to which, you are. Talking about this gets you riled up.
Jungkook lowers his head, “We should have talked about that, I know but—“
“But what Jungkook? It ruined our friendship and you know it.”
“I ruined it?” He now sounds pissed off. “What ruined our friendship was you acting like I didn’t exist once we got here to college. You blew me off and blew me off time and time again,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I tried to maintain this friendship and you know it. If that stupid, fucking, drunken kiss bothered you that bad, you should have been a big girl and told me.”
You feel frustrated and you feel tears are threatening to spill out of you. You want to comeback with something, but you know he’s right. He did try and you were the one to put distance between you both.
“I-I,” you start but no words come out. “I’m sorry Jungkook. It’s just when we got here, things got more complicated and more stressful, and I couldn’t afford distractions—“
“So I’m a distraction now?”
“What? No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” you shake your head in protest.
“So, hanging out at fraternity houses every weekend, getting hammered with Jennie every weekend, smoking pot once in awhile, and fucking Namjoon isn’t a distraction? But your best friend of fourteen years is a distraction?” Jungkook’s words come out in a frenzy and you feel slightly attacked.
“Excuse me what? Jungkook no—“ you stop yourself from speaking. You know he’s right but that doesn’t give him a right to attack you like that. “So, what’s your excuse then for not being the bigger person than, huh? Getting sucked off too many times in a bathroom and you realized you don’t need my attention anymore? Huh?”
Jungkook’s eyes darken and you can tell he’s pissed off.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He asks you.
“Jungkook, you’re my oldest friend—“
“You don’t treat me like it—“
“Well neither do you,” you back go back and forth with each other. You’re frustrated. Angry. Sad.
Jungkook is fighting a battle in his head. “I’m sorry okay,” he says, “I think we both can admit we’ve acted shitty to each other.”
You look away from him staring aimlessly at your lap, “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Neither should have I,” he says. “I just wish you had told me about that stupid kiss, we could have talked through it Y/N. I wasn’t thinking back then.”
“Why did you kiss me?”
Jungkook’s eyes look panicked and he scratches the back of his neck.
“I had a stupid little crush on you at the time okay? And alcohol doesn’t help, it only intensified my feelings.”
“What?” Your mouth drops agape at the confession.
“I know, stupid right,” he shakes his head, “Fuck I wished we had discussed this sooner because this is so embarrassing,” he laughs while shaking his head.
You’re in disbelief. Jungkook liked you? How did you not know? It makes your insides tingle at the thought, but you know you shouldn’t get excited so you drown out the feeling deep within you.
“Well, that was years ago,” you tell him, “All we can do now is look ahead,” your breath is uneven and shaky.
“You’re right,” he mutters, “I really am sorry Y/N, I-I just want you as a friend again—“
“I forgive you Jungkook. And I’m sorry too.”
What Jungkook does next is unexpected but all too familiar. He grabs your chin and squeezes it in his hand. You swat him away with a laugh as he pulls you in by an arm. You oblige his movements and rest your head on his shoulder as the two of you keep walking. There’s something oddly intimate about this gesture. And the whole atmosphere has changed but you like it—it feels… like home.
“Can I ask you something?” You mumble.
“You just did,” he laughs and his chest rumbles underneath you.
“Shut the fuck up,” you lean up from him with a smile, “Namjoon said you talk about me a lot…?” You trail off your question. You could be sneaky if you really wanted to be.
“He did?” Jungkook panics. Fucking Namjoon, he thinks to himself. “W-what did he say?” He stumbles on his words.
“Just stuff,” you respond hesitantly, “He may or may not have said that you called me hot.” Jungkook freezes beside of you.
“Fucking hell, I’m gonna kill hyung,” he mutters underneath his breath, “Look I’m sorry okay—I was really drunk and I saw you at one of our parties in this short ass dress and fuck, yeah I said you were hot—I’m sorry okay? I know that’s so fucking weird jeez, I’m sorry—“
“Jungkook it’s fine,” you laugh interrupting his rambling. “It’s not weird, I just wanted to know whether or not Namjoon was feeding me shit.”
“You don’t think it’s weird?” He asks and you can sense that he is very embarrassed. “I told you, I’m not good with my alcohol.”
You shake your head, “I mean, you’re pretty hot too if I say so myself,” the words tumble from your mouth and you actually want to crawl in a hole and die. Did you just say that?! Jungkook looks at you as you turn your face away from him. Fuck, he thinks to himself. He glances down your body and notices the cleavage coming through your dress and the way you hair is pulled to one side. Fuck, he thinks again, yeah, stupid little crush three years ago my ass.
“Can I tell you something?” His voice his quiet, serious.
“Of course,” you look up at him with a concern face.
“You can’t tell anyone—not even Jennie,” he says, his voice low. You give him a confused look, but nod anyways.
“What’s wrong?” You ask him. He bits at his lip, feeling uneasy.
He takes in a deep breath before exhaling, “When I changed my major a few months back, my parents threatened to cut me off—“
“Whoa, what?”
“And they’re still threatening to if I don’t get my shit straight.”
“Jungkook, I don’t get what you’re saying? Have you done something?” You ask him, feeling already too uneasy about where this conversation is going.
“No, I haven’t done anything—that’s the problem. I haven’t proved to them that I’m worthy for them to keep paying for my school. I haven’t proved to them that I can get a job somewhere. My grades aren’t proving anything to them.”
“What are you gonna do if they cut you off? You can’t pay for this shit-hole by yourself—they know that.” You notice the way his jaw is grinding and his breathing is shaking.
“Please don’t get mad at me,” he mumbles quietly. Oh god. “Recently I started taking up, um… boxing,” he says, unsure of his words.
“…Okay?” You say slowly.
“I’ve been fighting, like underground fighting,” you almost don’t hear him, but then you do, and you want to laugh in his face—but he’s being serious.
“Fighting? Jungkook what the fuck?!” You push yourself away from the comfort of his side, “Are you crazy?!”
“I’m getting paid for the fights—if I win at least,” he tries to sound reasonable but to you, you want to scream at him in anger.
“Jungkook, are you fucking kidding me? You’re fighting? Instead of finding a real job?”
“Y/N you don’t understand—I make thousands of dollars for one fight—it’s my best chance right now.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you shake your head, pulling your hands through your hair in frustration, you cannot believe this man right now.
“What are you going to do about school then? Huh?” You press him.
“I-I was hoping you would help me, at least try to tutor me,” he says hesitantly and your stomach drops. You don’t say anything for a moment, unsure if you want to scream or cry at him.
“So this is the reason why you wanted to rekindle our friendship, so I could be your fucking tutor?”
“What no—“
“Are you fucking kidding me Jungkook? I cannot believe you right now,” your voice is getting louder by the minute. You start to walk away from him back to your apartment by yourself, unable to even look at him right now.
“Wait—no, please Y/N,” Jungkook runs to you, grabbing your hand and pulls you back to him, “I know this is all bad timing but I really did miss having you as a friend and you’re the only person, I could tell this to, at least for now,” he quickly explains.
“What, so you want me to help you through school while you get the shit knocked out of you for money?” You ask him, “Jungkook I don’t want to see you go through that, you have to find another option,” your eyes are pleading with him. His grip moves from your hand to your waist which causes your heart to race irregularly.
“Y/N, please I know it’s not the best but it really is my best option. I need someone there for me and I need that person to be you,” his face is too close for comfort and you back away from him a few inches.
“Jungkook, I don’t know,” you shake your head.
“Please, Y/N, I’m begging you,” he says again.
“Have you told anyone?” You ask him.
“Aside from you, only Taehyung knows—and Yoongi, he was the one to introduce me to it.” Yoongi—a name you’re not familiar with.
“Fucking hell Jungkook,” you lean your head back, trying to contain your emotions.
“Please you can’t tell anyone Y/N, I can get in serious trouble by obtaining money this way.”
“Yeah because it’s fucking illegal,” you spit at him. You find his hand to grip a little too tightly and you want to scream at Jungkook. How could he be so stupid? And how were you going to let him be so stupid?
“I’ll help you with school Jungkook, but the fighting… I don’t know,” you tell him, “You know I’m not going to be okay with that.”
“If you makes you feel any better, I haven’t lost. The most I’ve walked away with is a few scraps and bruises on my arms,” he tries to lighten up your mood but it doesn’t work. “I promise I won’t get hurt, I know what I’m doing,” he nudges you trying to loosen you up some. He hands end up grabbing yours, intertwining them tightly.
“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep Jungkook,” you tell him and his face falls again. Both of you look at your intertwined hands. “At least promise me you’ll be careful,” you plead him.
“Of course. I promise,” he says giving your hand a squeeze. Without warning, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly. Your hands snake up against his neck and pull him close to you as well.
His scent is all too familiar and it scares you that you’ve missed out on him growing into the handsome adult he is now. And now, you have to fear for his wellbeing. Fuck. Jungkook pulls away from you and your faces meet a little too close for comfort. His nose brushes against yours, his eyes burning holes into you.
“I’d trust you with my life Y/N,” he speaks again, “And I’m trusting you with this.”
Your breath hitches as his nose brushes yours again. Fuck, you think to yourself. You bite your lip, knowing that you wold absolutely die for this boy and it takes all of you to grip his shirt and push him away from you. You feel less suffocated once your space is empty and Jungkook’s hand stays in yours as he walks you home. It’s a good thing, you think, that you’ve had a stupid little crush on him too or you would most definitely not do this shit for him.
_____
“So,” Jennie says slowly, “How was it?”
You hadn’t even walked into your apartment five feet before Jennie is rushing questions onto you.
“Um,” you pause, taking the time to take off your shoes, “It went... well,” you say, unsure of your words. Did it go well? You weren’t sure considering the two of you were in an argument nearly the whole way home.
“Well?” Jennie asks, curiosity dripping in her tone, “I need more details than that. What’d you do? What did you guys talk about?”
“Um, we just kind of caught up on things,” you knew you had to tread your words lightly. “It felt pretty normal.” You add at the last second, giving her a weak smile. She narrows her eyes at you.
“That’s it?” She somewhat frowned.
“What did you want me to say?” You give her a laugh as you begin to walk back towards your room and undress into your sleepwear. She follows your footsteps closely.
“I don’t know! I was just expecting more, more from you! You seem awfully quiet,” she says plopping down on your bed that she is oh-so accustomed to.
You look through your drawers and pull out a big t-shirt and slip it over your head. You turn to Jennie and give her another pathetic attempt of a smile.
“It’s just weird okay,” you tell her, climbing onto your bed with her, “This was the first time we’ve actually hung out by ourselves in years and I don’t know, it was good, like we picked up where we left off you know?” You knew that was a complete lie but you needed to get Jennie off your case or you were afraid you would let your worries slip.
She lets out a sigh, “I guess so. I do think about high school sometimes and we really had it good… the four of us,” she smiles fondly thinking back to simpler times.
“Yeah… we did,” you agree staring up at your ceiling.
“How’s Taehyung by the way? Did Jungkook mention him?”
You give a glance at Jennie and she’s looking at her overgrown nails. “He’s good, Jungkook said he had a girlfriend which surprised me.”
“Hm,” Jennie shrugged, “Interesting.”
You furrowed your eyebrows while looking at her. “Interesting?” You found her answer odd but she brushes it off.
“Yeah, well I have homework to do that isn’t gonna do itself unfortunately,” she stands up from your bed, “See you in the morning, goodnight.” She throws you a quick wink before she leaves, shutting your bedroom door behind of her.
You let out a sigh of relief when she leaves. As happy as you were that you and Jungkook reconnected some tonight, the uneasiness in the pit of your stomach was keeping you from focusing on the good. You couldn’t believe what Jungkook had gotten himself into. Boxing? For money? You knew Jungkook never had much common sense but this takes it to another level. You now knew one of his deepest secrets and not only could that seriously backfire on you if something went wrong. He said he trusted you with his fucking life for Christ’s sake. Who says that to someone they’ve barely spoken to in two years? Someone who is desperate, you think.
You grab a book from your nightstand for one of your classes and flip to your last read page, trying to rid your mind of Jungkook getting the shit beat out of him. And as much as you read your book and your eyelids fall sleepy, you manage to barely sleep that night, as images of your old friend are burned into your brain.
_____
It wasn’t long after your first meetup with Jungkook that he started asking for tutoring help. Jungkook knew your schedule was busy and he didn’t want to pressure you into anything, but the more you were around Jungkook, the more desperate you were to help him. You have known him for so long and despite all your differences, he truly was and will always be one of your best friends. And best friends helped each other. Right?
“Hey—sorry I’m late,” you meet Jungkook in the back of the fourth floor of the library after your last class of the day. “I had a question about my lecture—“
“Y/N it’s fine,” Jungkook says softly, not looking up from his paper, “Don’t worry about it.”
You set down beside of him and begin to take your belongings out of your backpack and you notice Jungkook has already begun some work himself.
“How was classes today?” You ask him opening up your laptop. You give him a glance and he’s focused on the problem in front of him.
“It was alright, I slept through my first one at ten—“
“What’s that?” You ask as you let your eyes focus a little too close on his face. A cut lined across his jaw and up towards his left ear and you felt yourself begin to panic. “Jungkook what—“
“Don’t worry about it,” he’s being cold and distant and you don’t like it. You look down his arms and onto his hands and notice some cuts and bruises there too. That’s when it hits you.
“Jungkook did you have a fight recently?” You keep your voice low so no one else could hear. He visibly tenses up beside of you and he adjusts his beanie on his to try and cover his ear area.
“Yeah,” he says simply, his eyes not looking at you one time, still focusing on the paper ahead.
“Jungkook,” your tone is deep and not happy, but you suppose there isn’t much you can do in this situation. Curiosity got the best of you and you ask, “What happened?”
“Let’s not talk about that okay?” He turns to you fully and you inwardly gasp, seeing that his right eye is half blacked behind his glasses. You feel sick to your stomach and your mouth parts. Again, you don’t say anything and just give him a nod.
The rest of the tutoring session with him goes smoothly and Jungkook has significantly picked up his understanding of his classes in a short amount of time, but in the back of your mind you wanted to scream. Scream at him. How could he be doing this to himself? He first told you he was fine. He sure doesn’t look fine. It’s getting close to 7 o’clock when you tell him you have to go get ready for your shift at the diner in an hour.
“We can pick up again whenever you need to,” you tell, “And text me if you have any questions.”
“What are you doing this weekend?” Jungkook completely ignores your sentences and you turn to him, trying not to stare at the faint of blue under his eye.
“Um, I have another shift tomorrow that starts at 7,” you tell him.
“Can you get off?” He asks almost nervously as the two of you begin to leave the library.
You chuckle, “Probably not, why?”
“Well, Taehyung and I are having a small get together at our apartment and I wanted to know if you and Jennie wanted to come?”
He sounds genuine and you know it could be fun and a little different from the chaotic frat scene that you’re used to.
“Sure, I’m sure Jennie will be down,” you give him a smile to which he returns one for the first time tonight. “If I can’t get off work I’ll just come after my shift.”
“Sounds good,” he says and you are about to part ways before he grabs your arm to stop you, “Thanks again Y/N, for helping me out,” there’s a glimmer in his eyes.
“No problem, it’s what a friend would do right?” You give him your best smile although it feels weird saying that. His face drops in the slightest way.
“Yeah…” he trails off, his hand trailing down your arm before letting go, “See you soon?”
You give him a nod, “See you soon.”
_____
Your shift at the diner tonight was being particularly slow for a Tuesday and you found yourself aimlessly making lattes for yourself every thirty minutes. You were slightly jacked from the caffeine but you knew you would need it once you went home to finish off the load of your homework for the night. Bedtime as of right now was looking to be 3 AM, possibly 4. Mark is once again working with you tonight which makes it all the more bearable, but the more you stand behind the counter, sipping your coffee, the more you realize you do not want to waste tomorrow night working.
“Hey, Mark,” you say and he looks up from his book.
“What’s up?” He asks, his eyes focussing on you.
“Would you care…. to possibly… take my shifts this weekend?” You ask slowly, dancing around the topic. His eyebrows furrow and you could tell that is not what he wanted to hear from you.
“I mean… I don’t care to, but can I ask why?”
Shit. You couldn’t say it was to go to a small party. That would be an automatic no.
“Well, I’ve been tutoring someone recently and it's taken away from my own study time, so I really need all weekend to catch up on all my shit,” you say smoothly. Not a complete lie, but he didn’t need to know you would be catching up on your “shit” tonight and not this weekend.
“Yeah, sure whatever,” he waves his hand off, “Just be sure to tell our manager before you leave.”
“Right… thanks Mark.”
“That means you owe me a shift in the future,” he says pointedly.
“Yeah, yeah, read your fucking book.”
_____
Friday was a blur. You went to sleep around 3:45 AM. Had to wake up at 7 AM for your 8 AM lecture, dragged your feet to your other classes, barely had time to eat anything, only consuming coffee to suppress your appetite in the afternoon, and now that you were home you couldn’t wait to lay in your bed for a few hours.
Jennie didn’t have classes on Friday’s—fuck her—so she had been chilling all day when you burst through the door exhausted.
“You look horrible,” she said as soon as you flopped down on the couch beside of her.
“You don’t have to tell me that,” you groan covering your eyes.
“Well you better get rested up before tonight,” she says.
“What’s tonight?” You mumble, nearly drifting off to sleep right then and there.
“Jungkook invited us to his apartment, that’s what you said last night,” she gave you a funny look before shaking her head.
Shit. You had forgotten about that throughout your drowsy state all day.
“Yeah, right,” you pause, looking at her through the crack of your arm, “Wake me up at 7 to get ready.” You stand up planning on taking the fattest nap of your life.
“I-I captain!” Jennie says sarcastically and it’s the last thing you hear before passing out on your bed, not even bothering to put a blanket over you.
_____
Jungkook and Taehyung’s apartment isn’t far from yours. You wouldn’t say the exterior is nicer than yours, but the abundance of buildings shows that their community is much larger than the one you and Jennie share.
“This is right?” Jennie asks as you knock on the door heavily.
“Yeah,” you say, faintly hearing music from the other side of the door.
The door swings open and to your surprise, it’s Taehyung.
“Jennie, Y/N!” He smiles widely at the two of you before ushering you in. “It’s been wayyyy too long! You guys want a drink?”
You take a second to look around their apartment, not seeing Jungkook anywhere. There’s about two dozen people here, some playing pong, others sitting around the living area. You knew Taehyung was feeling a little drunk despite it being only 9 from the way he grabs a couple cups, the entire tower of them falling over.
“How have you guys been?!” Taehyung pours some cheap tequila into your red solo cups and hands them over.
“Good, what about you?” Jennie smiles to him and Taehyung pours another shot for himself.
“Fucking great,” he says before putting his cup out. The three of you bump cups and down the tequila, a familiar burn hitting you instantly. It’s oddly reminiscent, the three of you drinking alcohol like there are no problems with the world.
“Where’s Jungkook?” You ask, giving another glance around the apartment, only recognizing some of his frat brothers, but him still not to be found.
“He went to get more alcohol and some other things,” Taehyung says, pouring another shot for the two of you. “I heard the two of you finally got over your bullshit?”
You furrow your eyebrows and Jennie laughs. “W-what?” You have to laugh too, “Bullshit?”
“You know, how the two of you acted like neither of you existed? God it was so annoying hearing that little bitch talk about you constantly,” he rolls his eyes dramatically and Jennie eyes you suspiciously.
“Uh, yeah—“ you were unsure of what to say, “Heard you have a girlfriend now?” You change the subject quickly and Jennie raises her eyebrows at Taehyung.
“Really?” Jennie says almost passively. Taehyung doesn’t glance at you, only looking to Jennie.
“Yeah,” he says, “C’mon, drink your shit. The night is young and you guys need to catch up!”
“Or you need to slow down?” You offer and only giggles again. You down another shot and at this pace, you’ll be passed out by 11, Jennie by 10. You’ve always handle your alcohol better than her, but a shot every two minutes will do anyone in.
The three of you talk aimlessly, somewhat of an unresolved tension between Jennie and Taehyung that is impossible to avoid until you get some more alcohol in you. You’re about four shots of Jose Cuervo in and sipping on some type of seltzer when your phone buzzes in your hand.
[9:46 PM Namjoon] hey, wrud tonight
[9:46 PM You] at a friend’s place tonight, wbu
Your eyes are having trouble to focus as the alcohol begins to settle in your system. You remember vividly how you barely had any food today and you know you should stop drinking otherwise you might puke everywhere.
[9:48 PM Namjoon] damn, missing you. I believe you still owe me a rain check
You laugh at your phone.
[9:48 PM You] soon, I promise lol
“Jungkook! Fuck yes my brother!”
You instantly look up from your phone and see Jungkook walking through the front door, a case of beer in one hand and a brown bag in the other. He smiles as he sets down the case and bag of liquor as his brothers crowd around him to grab a can.
Do you go up to him? Yes, are you, stupid? But shouldn’t he look for you? What are you twelve?
Your internal monologue is interrupted when Taehyung pulls you over to Jungkook with a small push.
“Hey Y/N,” Jungkook smiles, grabbing a beer for himself. He’s wearing a hat to cover his forehead.
“Hi,” you smile and he gives you a small, somewhat awkward hug.
“Glad you could make it,” he says, the bruises on his face from the other day already looking a lot better.
“I was not going to spend my Friday night at the restaurant,” you laugh, trying intensely to focus on his face and not zone in and out as you tend to do drunkenly.
“Jennie here?” He asks.
“Yeah, she’s uh,” you pause, actually not knowing where she went. “Oh, she’s playing pong with Taehyung.”
“Come on then,” he reaches out his hand, “Let’s play with them.”
“Jungkook I’m terrible, you know that—“
“I never said you were good, but for old times sake?” His brown eyes bore into yours and you give in, nodding your head and settling your hand into his. His hands are warm—always have been. Slightly rough and calloused but smooth—what the fuck, stop it!
The four of you, girls verses boys, start a new game of pong and you’re sure Jennie is just as bad as you. That’s evident when Jungkook and Taehyung lob four in, one after another. You’re lucky you get one in their cups. Jennie, too drunk at this point, can’t even throw straight. The whole sight is very funny as the four of you laugh like you’re the only ones in the room.
“Come on Y/N!” Taehyung yells, “I knew you were ass but really?!”
“Me! What about her!” You defend yourself as Jennie throws a ball at Jungkook’s head.
“At least Y/N can aim!” Jungkook laughs, defending you as well, rubbing his head from the plastic impact.
The game ends with Jungkook calling island and you don’t even care at this point. Pong was and never will be your favorite. Flip cup was your speciality and even Taehyung knew that. You find yourself sitting with Jungkook on their couch, legs tucked underneath you, watching at Taehyung and Jennie take on another round of pong with Jackson—a fraternity brother—and his long time girlfriend—Mina, maybe?
“Are you even drunk right now?” You deadpan Jungkook with your eyes and he gives you a small smile.
“Nah,” he says, “You are though,” he says pointedly drinking from his beer.
“Hey—“ you point, “Only a little,” you whisper close to his ear and he laughs at you again. “You sir, need to drink.”
Jungkook shakes his head before standing up, your eyes following up his jeans to his t-shirt clad chest. Has he always looked like this? You grab onto his extended hand and he leads you away from everyone and your heart rate quickens. Where are you going? What’s he doing?
To your relief, he takes to the small outside balcony, sliding the door nearly closed as you step out. There’s two other people out here smoking cigarettes that greet you and Jungkook curiously. You have seen these boys before, but you know they don’t recognize you. They obviously think you’re some random girl Jungkook has invited but—if they only knew.
The fresh air feels nice, but you can feel a chill running down your spine and you watch Jungkook’s frame go to a dark corner of the balcony, bending down to pick something off the ground.
“What are you doing?” You ask him and he turns back to you and you send some interesting paraphernalia in his hands.
“Not in a drinking mood tonight,” he says, his eyes leaving yours before focusing on the small glass bowl in his hands. He starts to pack it and you’re watching his every move closely. You never knew Jungkook to be a stoner, but the way he packs it quickly and begins to light it, tells you otherwise. He inhales through the end of the bowl deeply, exhaling once, before quickly taking another hit.
“Goddamn,” you laugh and he starts to cough a little bit, a small laugh coming from him.
Jungkook begins to walk back to the corner before you grab his shirt to pull him back.
“You heard of sharing is caring?” You say and he shakes his head.
“No, you’re drunk, you don’t need—“
“I want too,” you say. You hadn’t smoked in awhile, but you knew you could trust Jungkook. “Come on, I’m fine.”
Jungkook hesitates a little before he holds out the bowl. You take it and hold is securely between your lips. He lights the underside and you inhale deeply. The balcony begins to smell like weed, but it doesn’t bother you, it never has. You exhale and give him a small smile. He puts the illegal substances away and stands beside of you on the balcony.
“Alright, that will be five dollars,” he says and you turn to him, your mouth agape.
“Five dollars a hit? Kiss my ass,” you say and you suddenly begin to feel the effects of the marijuana, which makes you giggle a little too long.
“How was your day?” Jungkook asks you and you nearly feel like you could fall asleep.
“Exhausting,” you mumble, “I got like four hours of sleep last night and one of my professors had the audacity to tell me that my answer was wrong on my homework when literally five other people had the same answer and got it right. And then I had coffee as my meals and had a busting headache until I took the longest nap of my fucking life—“
“Slow down,” Jungkook interjects with a laugh, “Too much information that I’m not processing right now.”
You let out an “ugh” before saying, “I’ve had better days for sure.” You leave it at that. “What about you?”
He smiles before turning to you completely, “I’ve had better days, better weeks for sure.” He almost sounds annoyed now, like something is deeply bothering him.
You let a pause presume between the two of you, unsure of what to say. You know you shouldn’t bring it up, but you can’t help it. The bruises on his face, the cuts on his hands—you needed to know what happened to him. Despite your intoxicated state, you could form sentences and think pretty clearly and you weren’t letting Jungkook out of your sight without explaining himself.
“Jungkook,” you say in a whisper, looking around to see if the other guys had left. They had. “Are you gonna tell me what happened to your face?”
He looks down, almost embarrassed. “There was a fight on Tuesday,” he stops when you furrow your eyebrows at him.
“Tuesday?!” You half whisper, “What the hell are you doing fighting on a Tuesday? Jungkook you said—“
“It wasn’t an official fight Y/N,” he interrupts you, “I was fucking jumped with one of my friends,” he says and your eyes widen. You feel your head spinning and your mouth goes dry. From the weed, alcohol, or the conversation? You’re not sure.
“What?” You ask, worry filling your tone, “Jungkook what the fuck! You said you had this under control.”
“Keep your voice down!” He scolds, “I do have it under control, although you can’t really control when you get jumped.”
“W-why? Who would want—“
“His name is Eric. I beat him at the last real fight and I guess he’s a sore fucking loser. He wants a rematch and everything, said he was injured before the fight, so he sent some pussies to jump my friend Jimin and I.”
The information being taken in wasn’t something you wanted to hear. Was this stupid underground boxing that serious? And how stupid could Jungkook be to continue to do this?
“Well you’re not gonna fight him again,” you pause. He doesn’t look at you. “Are you?”
“There’s a lot of money on the line,” he says.
“Jungkook you’ve got to be joking.”
“I’m not Y/N,” he turns to you again, his body now closer than before. His knuckles gripping the railing are pale and cracked. “If I win this fight, I won’t need anymore money before the end of the year. Hell, I’ll probably even have some left over.”
“Okay? And?”
“Then I can be done with fighting,” he sounds genuine but insincere at the same time. This greatly improves your posture and you feel your heartbeat calming down.
“B-but I figured you would need more money? Your parents Jungkook?” You stumble over some of your words.
“Y/N you don’t understand the money within these things, it’s insane. Trust me, I’ll be set with money for awhile. I just have to win that fight…”
You want to protest him. Tell him he shouldn’t do it, that he should find a normal job, get away from that stuff—but you stay silent. Jungkook always will be as stubborn as you and he seems to have made up his mind about this fighting stuff awhile ago. At the end of the day, whatever happens to him, isn’t necessarily your business.
“You know I’ll never agree with this,” you shake your head, looking down at Jungkook’s hands. They’ve relaxed against the railing and time has slowed down significantly. Every blink of your eyes seem to last 5 seconds and Jungkook could say the same thing.
“I know,” Jungkook steps towards you, overlapping one of his hands with yours, “But like I said, I trust you and you should trust me,” he almost sounds desperate. “Look at me,” he whispers and you slowly turn your head up. Your noses are nearly touching and you can smell him, your vision clouding in the dark.
“Do you trust me?” He asks quietly, licking his lips and you swallow, trying to find your breath.
You nod your head slowly, “Yes.”
You don’t know who leans in first, but when your lips meet, it’s like a siren goes off. The scene feels all too familiar. His lips are soft and they feel just like you remember. He’s gentle with you, his left hand holding your waist to pull you towards him, your bodies flush together. One of your hands finds their way to his hair and you pull him down closer to you. This feels good, really good—but isn’t this wrong? You two have just rekindled your relationship and you two didn’t even last four weeks before you two are snogging—the very reason your friendship became weird in the first place all those years ago.
You try to pull away, “Jungkook—“ he closes the gap once again and it’s like a drug—touch is like heroin in your veins. Both of you are hungry—hungry for each other. You’re not sure when, but you find yourself backed into the wall of the dark-side of the balcony. The door isn’t in view so anyone inside couldn’t see what was going on right now thank god.
“Y/N,” the groan sends your body into overdrive and he begins to trail his lips down your neck and you’ve pulled him so close to you there is barely room to breathe. It’s gotta be the alcohol—or the weed—or just Jungkook—but you’ve never wanted anyone more in your life. You squeeze your thighs together to find some unrelieved friction and Jungkook senses what you’re doing. He stops you, forcing is own leg between your crotch and you subtly moan.
“Fuck, shh,” Jungkook scolds and it makes you laugh as you check if anyone is coming to the door.
“Jungkook,” you whisper and he closes the gap between you again, covering your mouth gently and you genuinely feel butterflies in your stomach. Jungkook’s hand trails from your waist down to the front of you jeans and you pull away suddenly, “Jungkook w-what are you doing?!”
“Do you want me to do this?” He sounds mischievous as he pops open the button to your pants and you can safely say you never thought you would be in this situation with Jeon Jungkook of all people, but you are not about to stop him.
You kiss him this time, pulling on his hair, eliciting another delicious groan from him. His hand makes it way to your center and you shiver in the cold, his hands warm against your underwear. He rubs you through the material, once, twice, three times before he moves aside the fabric—the wetness covering his fingers instantly. You look towards the door again nervous that someone might walk out here and see the two of you compromised—you would die. Especially if it was Taehyung or Jennie.
“Quiet, alright?” Jungkook whispers and you nod biting your lip as he enters a finger into you. You close your eyes, mouth falling open. Your breathing picks up as he enters a second digit. His fingers are long and calloused as you noticed before but it feels so good. He brings one of your legs around his waist so he can get deeper into your center and a small, squeaky moan escapes from your mouth. Jungkook shuts you up by kissing you again and he begins to move his fingers in and out, curling them in all the right places, sending you into a silent mess.
You and Jungkook shouldn’t be doing this—not here, not right now, not ever. But you’re not doing anything to stop it. Neither is he. Is this suppose to be happening then? No—definitely yes. Wait, what? Your brain is so foggy you can’t even think straight.
Jungkook has added a third finger and it’s becoming harder and harder to stay quiet. Jungkook’s face in the crook of your neck, your neck in his—it’s all a little too intimate but it’s hot and heavy and it feels so good. Jungkook begins to use his thumb to find your clit, which he does with no problem—rubbing there and still moving in and out of you. Goddamn, he knows what he is doing.
“Jungkook, I’m gonna—“
“Shh,” he says, “Bite me, anywhere,” he says and you do as he says, your teeth clamping down onto his shoulder as you feel yourself falling off the edge. Your orgasm comes in a huge wave and it’s one of the best you’ve had in a long time—your body is shaking and you whimper into his shoulder, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Jungkook lets you finish before he pulls his hand out of your pants, letting your leg drop. You two stare at each other for a couple seconds, unsure of what to do now. You knew that Jungkook was hard in his pants but you weren’t sure if he wanted you to do anything about it. Should you ask? No that’s fucking weird. Well it’s fucking weird you just let your best friend of a billion years to give you one of the best orgasms of your life.
“Um,” he speaks first, “We should go back inside,” he says.
You nod, “Yeah, we should.”
You follow closely behind him as he slides the door open and you step back into the much warmer apartment.
“Y/N! Jungkook! What were you guys doing?!” Jennie pops out of nowhere until she steps back, “Fuck never mind, I can smell it,” she laughs, her eyes looking between the two of you. “What’s wrong with you two? Are you fighting again? Jesus fucking—“
“No, we’re fine, just high,” Jungkook gives her a reassuring smile and she nods absentmindedly. She is very drunk and then two of you might have to go home sooner than later.
“I need to call an Uber,” you say grabbing your phone from your pocket.
“I can drive you guys if you want,” Jungkook offers and you narrow your eyes at him.
“Absolutely not, you’re high.” You say pulling up the app on your phone.
“I’ve driven high before it’s not—“
“Jungkook, no,” you somewhat snap at him. This kid really knows how to grind your gears. “Thanks for inviting us, I just don’t want Jennie to do something she regrets tomorrow morning.” You try your best to lighten to mood but it’s not helping. As much progress as you and Jungkook had made the past few weeks, that all feels gone now. There’s heaviness with you and him and you hate it.
“Just let me know when you make it home?” Jungkook’s eyes are hard to read. He looks worried, anxious, high obviously, and other potential obscurities.
“I will, I promise,” you give him a smile and he returns one weakly. You look over your shoulder to find Jennie practically draping herself all over Taehyung. Fuck. “Jennie! Come on! We’re leaving,” you stomp over to the two of them and Taehyung doesn’t seemed bothered by Jennie throwing herself at him at all. If anything, they both seem to like it. “Jennie, quit, he has a girlfriend. Taehyung, you have a girlfriend,” you narrow at the both of them.
Taehyung laughs very drunkenly, “You’re right, come on Jen,” Taehyung pushes her away slightly and she stumbles over her feet.
“Our Uber is almost here,” you tell her and she nods.
“Sounds good,” she gives you a thumbs up.
“Help me walk her Tae?” You ask and he nods.
As you and Taehyung have Jennie up around your shoulders, you look around the apartment to find Jungkook to tell him bye, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
_____
It had been exactly one week since you’ve seen Jungkook. Since he was fist deep into your vagina, pleasuring you with at least 20 people in the room next to you. It has also been the last time you spoke to him. He didn’t reach out for any tutoring this week which was odd—as the two of you set a schedule for it a few weeks back. You were worried. You knew you should reach out to him and talk about what happened—but something was holding you back. You didn’t want to talk over the phone. It had to be done in person and it just had to be done. You didn’t want to lose Jungkook a second time to another drunken mistake.
Mistake? Since when was it a mistake? Was it a mistake?
You had no idea.
It’s why you’ve found yourself at Jungkook’s apartment a week later, waiting for someone to open the door. You wait patiently and no one answers the door. You’re about to give up when a voice startles you.
“Y/N? What are you doing here?”
Taehyung appears to your left and you jump.
“Shit Taehyung,” you hold a hand over your chest, “I’m sorry, I-I was just wondering if Jungkook was home?”
Taehyung adjusts his backpack. He must be getting back from class. “He’s probably at the gym.”
You nod slowly, “Alright, thank you.”
“No problem,” he says and you’re about to walk away and he stops you again, “Everything okay?”
You open your mouth and close it again, “Not sure,” you tell him honestly. He nods without another word, seeming to understand where you’re coming from.
If your assumptions were right, Jungkook would be at a gym about ten minutes from campus, one he frequented as a freshman all that time ago. You wanted everything to be okay, but now, you were sure you have done fucked it up once again.
The gym isn’t crowded and you don’t recognize any cars to be Jungkook’s so your mood begins to dampen as you walk towards the front door. The bell rings and you probably look like an idiot walking in with jeans and sandals, but your eyes ignore the stares as you try to find Jungkook. You walk through the gym towards the back, your neck craning each direction to find him. It smells of sweat and grit, something you haven’t done too much of lately. You’re about to give up until you reach the back, where a cracked door leads into another section of the gym. You open the crack slowly and the sounds of grunting and hard hits fill the room. You stop in your place as your eyes land on Jungkook, downing boxing gloves, a pair of shorts, and nothing else. You gulp.
He’s hitting a heavy bag hard and fast, his movements halting only for a split second before he strikes again. He’s dripping in sweat and you gulp again. Should you interrupt? He’s definitely not expecting you therefore you probably shouldn’t barge in but you’re already here, so what are you supposed to do?
“Come on Jungkook,” another man’s voice comes into play. You’ve never seen this guy with mint colored hair. “Throw a southpaw, let’s go!”
Jungkook’s stance quickly changes and he’s throwing his right arm and then uppercutting his left arm with all of his weight.
“Nice Jungkook,” the voice says again. Jungkook steps back with a smile on his face, looking behind him.
“Hey,” a different voice yells over and you stop to see who it is. A guy slightly shorter than Jungkook appears in the crack of the door, a wide smile across his face.
“Good news, fight is set,” the guy smiles, although his smile reads less than enthusiastic. You notice some bruising along this guys arms, a large scrap on the side of his face. This has to be Jimin, the other guy that was jumped with Jungkook.
“When is it?” Jungkook breathes heavily, his hair sticking to his forehead as he tries to push it back through his gloves.
“October thirteenth,” Jimin says, “A Friday.”
Jungkook laughs, “A fucking Friday the thirteenth? How cheesy could they get?”
You swallow harshly. October 13th was a less than three weeks away. You’re sure they are talking about the fight with the guy named Eric that Jungkook mentioned.
“I know right,” the nameless guy says, “But I’m sure you’ll kick his ass once again, waste of your time.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice Jimin,” Jungkook sounds annoyed and you’re starting to wonder if you should have came here at all.
“Come on, let’s do some more sets,” the other guy says says, patting Jungkook on the shoulder.
You take in a deep breath, hoping that this doesn’t backfire. You take your chance and open the door to the room as if you just showed up. Jungkook, Jimin, and the third guy turns to you.
“Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking confused, “What are you doing here?”
You glance around the room awkwardly, “Uh, I-uh, went to your apartment to see you if you were a-and Taehyung said you were here, so,” you sound like a babbling idiot.
Jungkook’s eyes soften and it’s hard to not stare below his neck, but somehow you manage.
“Jimin, Yoongi this is Y/N,” Jungkook formally introduces you, “She’s a friend.” A friend. That hurt more than it should have.
“Hi,” Jimin gives you a sweet smile and he seems like a person Jungkook would automatically gravitate towards. Yoongi stays quiet. He’s definitely not someone you would strike as Jungkook’s friend.
“Sorry if I’m interrupting—I didn’t know…” you trail off, feeling more than awkward in this situation.
“No worries,” Jimin shakes his head, “We were almost done anyways.”
Jungkook’s eyes haven’t met yours since you’ve walked in. He’s staring at Jimin and knowing Jungkook, he’s going to try and leave as soon as he can.
“Wanna meet again tomorrow?” Jimin asks towards Jungkook as he packs up his bag on the floor.
“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook mutters, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. “I’m gonna stay here for a little longer though.”
“Alright,” Jimin says, “It was nice to meet you Y/N.”
You smile to him, “You too.”
Jimin and Yoongi leave the room and the silence is suffocating. You cross your arms around your chest feeling vulnerable and insecure. You look at Jungkook and he’s staring at you now. He looks away from you before turning back to the bag, lining up to strike it again.
“Jungkook,” your voice interrupts his chance to punch. He pauses with one more glance to your frame. You begin to walk closer to him wanting to get this over and done with. “What’s wrong with you?” You ask.
Jungkook looks down, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters and you nearly jump out of your body when he begins to strike the bag in quick, calculated motions. The bag moves backwards with each punch and his face tenses up, his mind clearly on one thing and one thing only. You exhale deeply, trying to stay calm. If that’s the way he’s going to play—you won’t keep your cool for long.
“Jungkook, stop,” you raise your voice over his movements and he suddenly quits, looking up at you again. “Don’t do this right now,” you say stepping closer to him again.
“What do you want Y/N, I’m busy alright,” he scoffs, stepping away from the bag, turning fully to you. You wish he didn’t look good drenched in sweat but it was hard to stay focused when he was looking like that.
“You know exactly what I want. You haven’t spoken to me in a fucking week Jungkook,” your words are fiery despite your cool demeanor.
“Is that really that big of an issue? We barely spoke for two years until recently,” he sounds annoyed, but also timid—you can sense something is bothering him.
You frown, “Yeah until recently because I thought we moved past that.”
He doesn’t say anything. And that’s what boils your blood. Tears are threatening to spill from your eyes—not from sadness, but frustration.
“So is that it? I let you finger fuck me and now I don’t mean anything to you anymore?” Your words are seething and once you say this, Jungkook’s face softens that slightest bit.
“What? No Y/N—“
“Then what the fuck is wrong with you? What have I done?!” It takes all of you not to breakdown right there. You just got Jungkook back. You couldn’t lose him a second time.
“Y/N listen,” Jungkook takes off his boxing gloves, throwing them in the floor, “You haven’t done anything alright. It’s just—complicated,” he shakes his head, stepping closer to you. He tries to grab one of your hands but you pull away from him.
“No, no you don’t get to do that,” you say, “What happened to communicating Jungkook? Wasn’t that our issue all that time ago?”
He looks down and back up. You really wish he would put a shirt on. “I know, I know…” he wanders off, “If I could tell you I would, but I’m just under a lot of stress right now and—“
“Then tell me what’s wrong,” you don’t want to interrupt him, but you feel like you two are going in an endless circle. Jungkook steps towards you once again and this time you don’t back away from him.
“Look, I’m sorry alright. I shouldn’t have cut you off this past week—I just thought it would clear my head,” he says. With hesitation, he grabs your wrists gently, “That was stupid I get that okay? I’m sorry, especially after… what happened,” he says and you can tell he means it. Jungkook is a genuine person, you can’t argue that.
Your face warms up and you feel almost embarrassed. Were you overreacting?
“I just don’t understand,” you mutter, “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions but Jungkook, you’re worrying me. I don’t know what’s going on with us and this whole boxing thing is keeping me awake at night.”
He intertwines your fingers together and it’s comforting. Comfort you’ve been missing ever since a week ago. “Y/N, please just trust me okay? If I can get through these next few weeks I’m set and I promise you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”
“How can you promise that?” You look up fully at him and you’re a lot closer than moments ago.
“I don’t to make promises I can’t keep.”
You sure hoped he was right.
_____
Two weeks have gone by since your talk with Jungkook in the gym. He had resumed talking to you normally, although there was still something off about him. Then again, there was something off with you too. The intimate situation the two of you found yourself in a few weeks back, still hadn’t been fully discussed and it bothered you like no other. It bothered you because you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it to happen again—or even further. Fuck, you shouldn’t be thinking about Jungkook like this. But don’t you have a right to? Jesus you were so confused. It’s why you have found yourself at Beta Tau Sigma once again on a Saturday night, Jennie already lost in tow somewhere, and you’re standing with Namjoon. Even though your mind was clouded with Jungkook, Namjoon was good company at keeping you distracted.
“What’s up with you lately?” Namjoon asks handing you another drink. You furrow your brows before taking a sip. Your face scrunches up at the taste—not the best.
“What do you mean?” You ask.
Namjoon gives you a straight smile, “Don’t play stupid,” he says. You don’t even try to make up a lie. Namjoon is too smart for that.
“I don’t know, Joon,” you sigh, “I’ve just been going through a lot lately I guess,” you mutter over the loud music.
“I get it,” he says, “Wanna talk about it?”
You’re about to answer him when you suddenly spot a familiar head of dark brown hair across the room. It’s Jungkook and he’s with a girl—you recognize her from somewhere. She’s standing in front of him and he’s smirking down at her and says something that makes her laugh. Then you know where you’ve seen her before—the bathroom girl. Fuck her, you don’t even realize you roll your eyes.
Namjoon laughs, “Whoa, what was that for?” He raises an eyebrow at you.
“W-what?” You look back to him and he follows where your eyes had been.
“Looking at Jungkook, eh?” He smirks, “Something going on between you two?”
You shake your head immediately, “No. Absolutely not.”
You didn’t know if that was a lie or not. Sure, Jungkook and you may have swapped some bodily fluids recently, but nothing else. You were also keeping a secret of his, one that if Namjoon found out about—would have him kicked out of the frat faster than he could blink. You glance back over to Jungkook one more time and find his eyes scanning the room. They land on you within 5 seconds and he shifts uncomfortably in front of bathroom girl.
“You sure?” Namjoon finds this situation funny. You don’t.
“Shut up,” you push on his chest slightly and he grabs your hand, pulling you towards him.
“Oh I can make you shut up,” he mumbles and you laugh as he closes the distance between the two of you. Namjoon’s lips are always soft and plump but that doesn’t mean he is always the most gentle. Namjoon is rough and sometimes—it’s just what you need. Jungkook’s lips on—
You pull away quickly from him. What the fuck?
“You okay?” He asks with concern.
You nod your head, “Yeah, I, just uh need some air,” you say. It was true—your head was now spinning and the alcohol wasn’t helping. You couldn’t believe you thought of Jungkook when kissing Namjoon.
“Alright, I’ll be by the bar.”
You leave Namjoon’s side and push your way through the hoards of people and loud music. You spot a door towards the back of the kitchen and use that as your opportunity. The air is cool but crisp. Just what you needed. There’s quite a few people outside surrounding a large bonfire keeping warm. You relax against the porch railings, staring aimlessly at the ground beneath you. You pour your drink out, knowing you don’t need to drink anymore of it. You nearly shit yourself when a voice comes up directly behind you.
“Y/N.”
You whip around, clutching your chest. “Jesus Christ Jungkook,” you say. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, a large flannel and sweatshirt covering his torso. He approaches you hastily and you don’t take your eyes off of his.
“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he says, obviously trying to make small talk.
“I didn’t either until Namjoon asked me this evening,” you say and you instantly regret bringing up his name. Jungkook stiffens.
“Still good friends with him I see,” he bites his lip nervously, looking over to the bonfire. You squint your eyes at him. He sounds off and annoyed.
“I see you’re still friends with bathroom girl,” you shoot back. You’re not even drunk, barely tipsy, but the thought of Jungkook being annoyed at you and Namjoon nearly sends you. At least you know Namjoon well—the only Jungkook knows about that girl is her fucking mouth.
“Gotta an issue with that?” He runs his tongue against his mouth and he looks at your from the side.
You turn to him and this feels all too familiar. “Yeah, actually I do.”
“Well, I have an issue kissing Namjoon in front of me—are we even?” He cocks his head to the side and you’ve never felt more annoyed yet turned on at the same time.
“Whatever,” you brush him off running a hand through your hair, turning back to your front staring at the fire. “Last time I checked I don’t take orders from you.”
“I know,” he says and you feel him push his body against your side. Your breathing instantly picks up and you bite the inside of your cheek to steady yourself. One of Jungkook’s hands finds its way to your shoulder, trailing it down to your elbow, then pushing it through the crack of your arm to settle on your waist.
“Jungkook,” you say quietly, not wanting to bring any attention to the two of you. Jungkook’s head leans down, his temple brushing against yours. His hand rubs gentle circles on your waist and you inhale his scent deeply. Fuck. “Jungkook… are you drunk?”
He shakes his head, “No, are you?” You believe him. He doesn’t smell like alcohol nor does he seem tipsy.
“No,” you say. Jungkook pulls you impossibly closer to him and your throat feels like its closing up.
“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook asks and you turn your head up, your noses brushing together. What? When has he ever been this upfront? You hesitate to answer but soon nod slowly—just once—you needed to feel it again—just once again. He closes the gap between you and you nearly melt into him. One of your hands grabs his face gently, pulling him down to you. Your own hands find their way to his fluffy hair, entangling into the locks. He presses himself into you and you feel your heart beating out of your chest. You let out a small whine when he pulls on your lip with his teeth and it shakes you back to reality.
You pull away from him—your entire body on fire. He’s got you trapped against the railing and you don’t trust the old wood to support your weight much longer.
“Jungkook,” you whisper and you feel something hard pressing into your front and your throat goes dry.
“Come home with me,” he says, “Please.” Desperation. That’s what laces his tone and you’re sure your heart left from your chest. But—you know this isn’t a good idea. Blame it on being sober, but you’re not sure you should go there with Jungkook. Not right now at least. Your head was spinning and as much as you wanted to—you couldn’t.
“Jungkook,” your eyes focus on his chest, watching your hands grip his shirt gently. “I—We can’t, we shouldn’t,” you bite your lip nervously.
“Please Y/N,” he nuzzles his forehead into yours, his grip on your getting tighter, “I need you, please—“
“Jungkook, no,” you push him off of you carefully and he looks hurt and confused. “I’m sorry, I—I want to but—“
“But what?” Once again, he looks sad and maybe a little angry now? “II’m not Namjoon? Is that it?”
You shake your head, not able to find a good answer in your head. His hands drop from your side and so does your stomach. Without another glance at your frame, Jungkook walks away, pulling at the roots of his hair.
You get home alone that night. Fuck. You think you really may have messed up this time. No, Jungkook wasn’t Namjoon but Namjoon could never be Jungkook. The history the two of you have... god you were so confused. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt gravity pull you to someone more since recently, that someone being Jungkook. As confused as your feelings were, you cry some in your bed. You don’t sleep that night, worried that whatever wedge is driving itself between you and Jungkook again—won’t be fixable this time.
_____
Jungkook, maybe much not to your surprise, cuts you off again the next week. You haven’t spoken or seen him since the party. Since he wanted you to go home with him and you nearly did, but thankfully you used your head some. You missed seeing his face dearly and missed his smile even more. When did things get so complicated with you and him? Ever since fucking graduation in high school—nothing has been the same. It’s been years and years and it’s something you’ve never gotten over. The more you think about it, the obvious reasons begin to show. Maybe Jungkook means more to you than you thought? Maybe he wasn’t just supposed to be your best friend? What if you two had been destined for something else all this time? Or maybe you weren’t meant to be friends at all?
Your thoughts are interrupted when a familiar face walks into your shift at the diner. Taehyung is by himself, his backpack thrown lazily over one of his shoulders. He looks tired, but just like you, getting through the day. His eyes meet yours and give him a small smile.
“Sit wherever,” you tell him and he decides to sit along the bar, sitting across from where you stand.
“Good evening,” he gives you a small smile, running a hand over his face.
“Hey Tae,” you breathe out, handing him a menu. He holds up his hand, not wanting it.
“Just get me a latte, extra espresso please,” he says and you nod.
“Coming right up.”
It doesn’t even take you a minute to make lattes now. The process has become so familiar it’s become second nature. Mainly due to your own obsession with lattes and your determination to perfect them yourself. You top the mug off with some foam before sliding it over to Taehyung. He doesn’t wait for it to cool before taking a big gulp.
“Rough day?” You ask, leaning forward on your elbows.
“You don’t even know,” he grumbles, “I had a quiz in my hardest class today that I didn’t know about, therefore didn’t study for,” he pauses, “I had to pick up all the slack on a group project that’s due on Saturday and then I have had to deal with Jungkook’s dumbass all week and he was at his worst this morning,” he rolls his eyes.
The mention of Jungkook makes your heart flutter yet stomach feel nauseated, “What’s wrong with Jungkook?”
Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you, “Don’t you know?”
“Um… he hasn’t talked to me in a week,” you look down at your hands, your mouth dry.
“Jesus fuck,” Taehyung groans, “No wonder he’s been in such a fucking mood. What did he do?”
You weren’t sure how to go about your answer. Um, yeah, so like Jungkook wanted me to go home with him to have sex and I did too and I didn’t and I don’t know why. Sounds great.
“It wasn’t him. It was me,” you pause, “He asked me to go home with him.”
Taehyung’s eyes widen slightly, a small smirk on his face, “Did you?”
You shake your head, “No, I couldn’t bring myself to. I wanted to but…” you trail off, slightly embarrassed to be telling Taehyung this.
“Goddammit,” he nearly laughs, “No wonder he’s pissy. Between you and tomorrow, kid’s got his work cut out.” You pick up Taehyung joking around but you still furrow your eyebrows.
“What’s tomorrow?” You ask.
“The 13th. Did he not tell you?” Fuck. His fight. Without talking to Jungkook everyday, you had forgotten about the fight.
“He mentioned it.”
“Are you going?” The question catches you off guard.
“What, oh no,” you shake your head, “No, he didn’t ask and I don’t think that’s something I wanna see anyways.”
“Trust me, he wants you there,” he says, “He’s just being a dick.”
“He’s got a funny way of showing it,” you snap. “Every time something happens between us… he shuts me off. I don’t fucking get it.”
“Y/N he does this to everyone when he’s stressed,” Taehyung pauses, “Especially since, you know,” he shrugs. The fights.
You nod, “I get it,” you slump, “It’s still frustrating.”
“You don’t have to tell me that—at least you don’t live with him,” he gives you a laugh and you send a smile in return.
“How do you feel about it?” You ask him genuinely, “The boxing I mean…”
Taehyung squints his eyes briefly, “I think it’s stupid personally,” this answer warms your heart until he continues, “But if I was as good as Jungkook I would probably do it too. The money in these things are insane.”
You raise your eyebrows, “So I’ve heard.”
Taehyung nods before he gets a text on his phone. He reads it before smiling.
“Your girlfriend?” You probe curiously.
He clears his throat, “Uh, yeah,” he responds quickly before turning his phone over. “So, what exactly is going on between you two?”
“Uh, what do you mean?” You laugh sarcastically.
Taehyung deadpans his face, “You know what I mean. I know you guys have this weird chemistry, it’s obvious. Plus he hasn’t shut up about you since you started tutoring him. Y/N this, Y/N that… it’s disgusting.”
Did Jungkook really talk about you?
“Ask him, not me because I don’t even fucking know. I could tell you what Kim Namjoon and I are before I could define mine and Jungkook’s relationship.” You let out a laugh and other eye roll.
“I’m assuming you and hyung are… what do they say? Friends with…?”
“Yeah yeah whatever you wanna call it,” you swat your hand slightly embarrassed.
“Jungkook hates it you know,” he says, switching tones. “You and Namjoon.”
You slightly snort, “And why is that?” You could tell Jungkook didn’t like seeing you with Namjoon, even before last weekend after he voiced it.
“Because he knows Namjoon is the type of guy you’ve always wanted, not him.” This takes you completely off guard.
“Why would Jungkook care about that?” You furrow.
Taehyung shrugs, staying silent this time. You weren’t stupid—you knew what Taehyung was implying by saying what he said. It makes your stomach drop. Maybe Jungkook felt more for you than he supposed to as well?
“So are you gonna come tomorrow?” He asks.
“No Taehyung,” you say, “I don’t want to see Jungkook get the shit beat out of him.”
“Jungkook won’t get the shit beat out of him, I can promise you that.”
You eyes glance over to the door as a small group of people walk into the diner. You don’t say anything else to Taehyung as you walk over to greet them. You seat them and make your way back to Taehyung, but you can’t chat much longer as you now have a table to tend to.
“Listen Y/N,” Taehyung stops you before you can walk back over with menus for the group, “If you wanna come, just text me. Like I said Jungkook wants you there, whether he’s said so or not. Also, another latte please, you’re slacking woman.”
You swat him with the menus before walking away from him. Goddamn, these next 24 hours were going to be hell.
_____
You couldn’t remember the last time you were ever this nervous for someone aside from yourself in a very long time. You remember how nervous you were in high school when you got injured and Jennie had to double with a girl on the bench of the tennis team. You remember being nervous for your parents when you left for college. And now, you don’t ever recall a moment in your life where you have been this nervous for Jeon Jungkook of all people.
It was Friday at 3:43 PM and you day was slow but painless, and you had no official plans set for the evening. Taehyung had texted you, wondering if you wanted to hitch a ride along with him to the match. You had yet to answer him. His text mocking you from your screen and you wanted to pretend that you knew nothing of the boxing match but that was impossible.
[You 3:59 PM] What time should I be ready
You send the message before you could regret it and delete it. Jennie has yet to be home from going to the store and you would need a good, yet believable excuse for your absence tonight.
[Taehyung 4:00 PM] i’ll pick you up around 8
[You 4:00 PM] Sounds good. Have you spoken to Jungkook today?
[Taehyung 4:02 PM] no he’s been quiet all day. have you?
[You 4:02 PM] Nope
You don’t receive another text from him and you slump down on your couch. It had been nearing two full weeks since Jungkook had spoken to you. You felt like all of this was your fault, sending him mixed signals and unsure of your own feelings for him. From the secretive finger fuck to the gentle kiss you shared last week, Jungkook was on your mind 24/7—aside from taking exams of course—but he was all you could think about lately. Growing up, you obviously loved Jungkook and was practically glued to his hip, but even then you don’t recall thinking about him every single fucking second.
You pull at the roots of your hair and let out a frustrated groan. Maybe you should reach out? After all, without your initiation of friendship all those years ago, you wouldn’t be here now.
You pick up your phone and find Jungkook’s contact and before you can stop yourself, you tap the call button. Your hands are clammy and you know he probably won’t answer, but it’s worth a try. The line rings for about thirty seconds before it goes dead. That dumbass doesn’t even have voicemail set up.
Pissed off even more, you slam your phone against the coffee table and let out an exasperated ‘fuck’ before going to your room to take a nap. Fuck Jeon Jungkook, is the last thought you have before you drift off into sleep.
_____
Taehyung picked you up at 8:02, though you told Jennie it was Namjoon who picked you up and the two of you were having a night in. You think she believed it but left her before she could ask anymore questions.
“I just don’t fucking get it Taehyung, one second he’s fine and another he’s like a child throwing a fit,” you filled Taehyung in on how you tried to call him but to no avail.
“You don’t have to tell me how he is Y/N, I fucking live with the guy,” he groans from his drivers seat. “I just think he’s going through a lot right now… with school, his parents, the boxing, you… he’s never handle stress that well you know that.”
You let out a sigh, leaning against the window, “It’s just so frustrating trying to help him only to get cut off like this…”
Taehyung looks at you with an eyeful glance though you don’t notice. “Y/N, in his eyes you’ve cut him off too, you do realize that right?”
You furrow your eyebrows. “What? No I haven’t?”
“Come on the little brat can’t keep his mouth shut. I know what happened with you two a couple weeks ago,” he says. You don’t say anything, cheeks getting warm. “And the weeks before that on our fucking balcony—“
“Okay what then Tae!” You interrupt him, too embarrassed by the memory.
“Jungkook is trying Y/N,” he says with a hint of a smirk, “He thinks you’re rejecting him,” Taehyung says matter-of-factly.
“Rejecting? C’mon Taehyung you know that I—“
“I know that you and Jungkook like each other, even though neither one of you have said anything, Jennie says it too.”
You narrow your eyebrows at your friend. “I don’t know what I think about Jungkook okay?” You’re being honest. You know you like Jungkook… but you’re scared of what that entails for the future. You want Jungkook in your future, you just don’t know what the right path is.
Taehyung doesn’t say anything else as he pulls his car into a fairly full parking garage. It’s dimly lit and slightly freaks you out. Taehyung had to drive to the other side of the city to get here and you don’t recognize the neighborhood around.
“Stay close to me, alright?” Taehyung opened your door for you and you nod without any argument. You follow Taehyung out of the parking garage into the chilly air and you huddle by his side. The two of you walk down a couple streets before he turns down a dark, dimly lit alleyway.
“Taehyung what the fuck,” you whisper and come to a halt. His brown eyes bleed into yours despite the darkness and he takes your hand into his.
“It’s okay,” he says reassuringly, “I promise.”
You nod reluctantly and the you continue to walk down the alley, coming to a stop at the end where you spot the familiar face of Min Yoongi. He’s standing down a small flight of stairs beneath you two and he greets Taehyung with a stiff smile.
“Taehyung, what’s up,” he says, his eyes immediately looking over at you, “Y/N?”
You tighten your grip around Taehyung’s hand, Yoongi’s stare quite intimidating.
“She should be on Jungkook’s list.”
You stay quiet knowing Taehyung doing the talking is the best strategy. Yoongi looks down at a clipboard—old fashioned but effective you guess—before nodding.
“You guys are good. Hurry and find a seat, there’s a lot of people down here tonight.”
“You got it,” Taehyung gives him a small smile before you drag behind him down the stairs and enter through a heavy door. You already hear plenty of commotion as you enter a huge space a few feet from the door. Your eyes look around and you could see nearly a hundred people just in your line of sight.
“Holy shit,” Taehyung says.
“What?” You get nervous by his tone.
“I’ve never seen this many people here, goddamn.”
“Why are there so many people here?” You spot a large boxing ring, dead center of the room and your mouth goes dry.
“I guess people like rematches?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you.
“Where’s Jungkook?” You ask, noticing how some eyes are staring at you, making you shift uncomfortably in your boots.
“Probably in the locker rooms… wanna see him?” He asks.
You bite your lip. “Does he wanna see us?” You hope Taehyung says yes. It’s killing you inside not being able to see him, hear him.
“Guess we’ll find out, c’mon,” he smirks and you follow him closely. As you look around, you do notice people you somewhat recognize. Whether it’s from walking around on campus or some of your classes, all these faces are not too unfamiliar. Taehyung takes you away from the crowd of people, through another set of doors and down another hallway. With this much walking and standing, you would have worn something other than booties. You enter the “locker room” area and you suddenly feel queasy. What if Jungkook is mad that you’re here? What if he doesn’t want to see you after all? What if—
“Y/N?” Your thoughts are broken by a honey-like voice and you focus in on the source. Jungkook sits a few feet away from you and Taehyung, back leaning against a wall. He looks confused, but also pleasantly surprised. “What are you doing here?” He gets up and does the unexpected—he embraces you in a tight hug. You return it without a second though, holding him close to you. He pulls away from you after a few moments and gives Taehyung a small hug too.
“Hey,” you say shyly.
“How are you feeling?” Taehyung asks his friend and Jungkook shrugs.
“I’m alright.” Jungkook looks at you again. “I didn’t think you���d ever come to one of these,” he laughs awkwardly.
“Me either,” you say with no expression. As much as you wanted to be happy—you couldn’t. You were pissed at Jungkook for ignoring you and you were pissed that Jungkook was about to fight. You eye his frame, a white t shirt and navy sweatpants hang low on his hips. He looks calm, too calm for your liking.
“Will you give us a minute?” Jungkook suddenly turns to Taehyung and he nods glancing at you.
“I’ll get some seats.”
Taehyung leaves you and Jungkook alone and you nearly feel like crying. What the fuck is this mess?
“Y/N listen to me,” Jungkook says stepping towards you, “I’m so sorry about thess past two weeks. I-I’ve been a dick for no fucking reason and it’s not fair to you.”
You don’t say anything as you stand there with your arms crossed over your chest.
“Fuck I know I’m idiot and there’s no excuse… I’ve just been so stressed lately and you’re the best fucking part of my day—“
“Well why don’t you fucking act like it Jungkook? I’m sick of something happening between us and you acting like a I don’t exist for god knows what reason,” you raise your voice slightly.
“Y/N I,” he pauses, his hands finding their way to your shoulders, “I haven’t been honest with you and,” he pauses again and you feel your heart speed up. What’s he talking about? “I just wanna say—“
“Jungkook, you got five minutes,” the two of you turn to Park Jimin who seemed to come in at the wrong time.
“Fuck,” he says, “We’ll talk after okay?”
You nod hesitantly and before you can push yourself away from him, Jungkook places a kiss on your forehead and it makes your insides melt. Fuck, you meet his brown eyes, biting your lip nervously.
A revelation springs into your mind; you think you might love him. He pulls you in for another hug, though this is one much shorter as Jimin is ushering you out of the locker room in the blink of an eye.
As much as you wanted to be mad at Jungkook, those thoughts had quickly subsided and replaced with butterflies and nausea. Did you really love Jungkook? You always have, but the feeling in the pit of your heart is pulling you to a different type of love. You cared about him, sometimes even more than yourself. You’ve always wanted the best for him, even if that meant sacrificing your feelings in the process. Now you were stuck between a rock in a hard place, much like you were back in high school when you had a crush on Jungkook. Fuck. And now you have to watch him fight someone like dogs,
You shake yourself from your thoughts, as loud music flows through your ears and you look around for Taehyung. Luckily, his ashy hair color is easy to spot amongst the crowd and you push yourself to him, squeezing in between bodies and their chatter.
“My bet’s on Jeon,” a voice says.
“Fuck no, Eric isn’t gonna let the same guy beat him twice.”
You try to ignore the snide comments about Jungkook and when you get to Taehyung, he greets you with a smile.
“Hey, everything good?” He asks.
You lick you dry lips, “I don’t know,” you say honestly. Taehyung’s eyes drop and he nods.
Suddenly, all the lights go out in the venue and a roar of screams and cheers fills the void. You stay still, pressing your body close to Taehyung. It’s not that you feel unsafe, but this environment—it wasn’t for you at all. You heart rate quickens when a man, give a few years on your age, gets into the boxing ring before you, the crowd cheering even louder for him. He bumps a microphone with his palm before bringing it to his mouth.
“Welcome, welcome!” He beams with a smile, “What an outstanding turnout we have tonight! You guys choose a good one to watch because tonight is the rematch of two of the best fighters I’ve seen in a long time…”
“Let’s give a welcome to our first fighter, weighing in at 148 pounds, 5 foot 11, Jeon Jungkook!”
Being an underground fighting ring, there isn’t a posse escorting Jungkook to the ring. He’s got Jimin by his left side, Min Yoongi on the right. Jungkook is shirtless, wearing only a pair of navy shorts, black and white boxing gloves on his hands. He enters the ring with cheers and you inhale and exhale deeply. You look up at Taehyung and he gives you a nod of reassurance to calm down. Jungkook jumps around in place a few times, shaking his arms and shoulders out. From your seat, you can’t read his eyes or facial expression—but he looks calm and unnerved.
“Coming in next, weighing in at 145 pounds, 6 feet tall, Kim Eric!”
Jungkook’s opponent walks in next, three guys surrounding him. He walks slow and steady, his bare chest tattooed beautifully, his boxing gloves a dark red. He enters the ring to cheers and this Eric guy’s gaze doesn’t leave Jungkook’s body one time. Jungkook hasn’t spared one glance at the guy and you find yourself somewhat smiling. Jungkook has always been a cocky-fuck when it’s come to sports which would usually annoy you, but here right now—he looked hot as fuck standing there as if he had no care in the world. Jungkook stands on the left corner of the ring, sitting on a small stool as Jimin and Yoongi talk to him. Jungkook nods, absorbing their information. Eric and his guys do the same.
Suddenly, both men stand and Jimin is putting a mouth guard in Jungkook’s mouth and with one last nod, he finally looks over at Eric, who has already made his way to the center of the ring with the announcer. Jungkook stalks over slowly, his eyes dark and hungry.
“Alright guys, I want a clean fight. No kicking, no cheap shots. If you get knocked down, I give you ten seconds to get up. You look me in the eyes and say you’re good before anymore fighting happens alright. We go for five rounds, unless more is needed. A knockout wins. Touch gloves.”
Jungkook sticks out his gloves for Eric but Eric only stares at him, ignoring the sign of solidarity.
“Fuck you,” Eric says to Jungkook and sends a chill down your spine. Jungkook rolls his eyes, backing away from him, but stays silent.
“Alright… ready… fight!”
Time slows as a bell rings loudly, the cheers get even louder, and you find yourself gripping Taehyung’s arm for support. Jungkook starts to move around the ring slowly, but Eric isn’t having that—immediately rushing to Jungkook to get a few jabs in. Jungkook manages to dodge them perfectly before Eric can corner him. Jungkook keeps his gloves high and never looks away from Eric. Eric comes after Jungkook again, jabbing once—twice—the third time hitting Jungkook square in the face.
“Shit,” you breathe out, eyes widening.
This time, Jungkook comes for Eric, his jabs coming quick and calculated, landing Eric in the body once. Jungkook jabs again and hits him in the face. Eric moves around quickly, Jungkook not quick to follow him. Eric comes after him again, Jungkook blocking his jabs, but missing at the end, leading to Jungkook getting hit in the face once again as well as a body shot.
Eric is coming in hot, throwing punches and jabs left and right, making Jungkook dance around to dodge them. After a few moments, Jungkook begins to fight back, landing Eric square in the face twice. You notice that Jungkook must have busted Eric’s lip as blood now protrudes from his mouth. This seems to send Eric into overdrive and attacks Jungkook quick and fast. You cover your mouth when Eric has Jungkook trapped against the rope, landing body punches after body punches.
“Alright!! Enough, break it up!!” The announcer gets Eric off of Jungkook and Eric starts to laugh in a very showman's way. Jungkook is breathing heavy and he tilts his head—a habit of his that comes out when he’s frustrated or angry. This seems to be both.
Jungkook and Eric continue to throw jabs at one another. Within a few seconds, the whole fight seems to change as Eric manages to slip past one of Jungkook’s blocks and lands him straight on the cheekbone. Jungkook’s body almost freezes before he falls back on the floor and you gasp at the sight.
“Fuck! Taehyung—“
“He’s fine, he’s fine,” he says but his eyes never met yours.
The announcer is on the floor with Jungkook counting down from ten and Jungkook finally sits up when he reaches the number four.
“You good son?” The guy asks Jungkook.
He nods, “Yeah, let’s go.”
Jungkook gets up and walks around, stretching his neck around, waiting for the ref to announce the second round.
“That’s what you get motherfucker,” Eric says walking past him to his corner. Again, Jungkook says nothing before sitting down. Jimin takes out his mouth guard and lets Jungkook drink some water.
“Why is Jungkook letting him hit him like that?!” You ask Taehyung, looking up to him, “He’s getting his ass kicked!”
Taehyung shakes his head, “Jungkook’s smart Y/N… he’s trying to run Eric’s energy out. If Eric keeps swinging the way he right now, he’ll be passed out on his own soon.”
The second round commences and this time, it’s Jungkook who comes out fast. Jungkook soon has Eric trapped against the rope, landing jab after jab. The ref intervenes and lets them get some air. Jungkook’s skin is sweaty and red hot and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look as mad as he does right now.
Eric counters quickly, catching up with Jungkook again, landing punch after punch. Jungkook escapes but Eric sticks out a foot, causing Jungkook to trip. The whole crowd—yourself included—start to yell at the action. The referee pulls Eric back and points his finger at him. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you know it’s a scolding by the way his mouth is moving quickly. You look over at Jungkook who shakes his head disapprovingly. He’s talking to Jimin as Yoongi cares to a cut on Jungkook’s eyebrow.
“He’s a fucking asshole,” you make out Jungkook saying.
The third round starts and it seems both Eric and Jungkook are equally fighting this time. Jungkook’s combinations are cleaner than Eric’s, anyone can see that, but the way Eric keeps landing in on Jungkook—makes you feel like this isn’t going to end well for him.
“Come on Jungkook!” You find yourself yelling in the chaos, your whole body shaking as Jungkook dances around the ring to get away from Eric. Eric has him trapped again, but with Jungkook’s strength, gets Eric off of him to turn the tables. There’s sweat and blood coming off both fighters and it’s got to be the most horrifying thing you’ve ever seen.
“Come on you little bitch,” Eric spits at Jungkook, “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”
Jungkook says nothing again, jabbing when he needs to.
“Fucking hell why won’t you speak to me you fucker?” Eric speaks again.
“I don’t have shit to say to you,” Jungkook finally retorts back. “You lost my respect when you sent those pussies to jump Park and I.”
Eric swings hard and Jungkook ducks, barely missing it by an inch. Eric is tired, Jungkook too, but Jungkook can see a weakness in him now.
“Come on it was all in good fun,” he says with a smirk, “You know what else would be good fun?”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything.
“Kicking your ass,” he pauses and before Jungkook can do anything else, Eric swings down hard, landing on Jungkook’s body knocking the breath out of him. Jungkook stumbles backwards, holding his stomach, he lands again on the ground with a clunk. Eric stands over him, before taking out his mouthpiece, “And stealing your bitch you invited tonight.”
“Goddammit,” you mutter watching the scene unfold in front of you. No one knows what they’re saying to each other over the noise and you honestly couldn’t care. You just want Jungkook to get up and finish this shit.
Jungkook stands up, though with a visible wince in his face. He’s breathing heavy and is filled with pure rage. The fourth bell rings and it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to attack him. Jungkook is fast and furious, landing punch after punch and you’ve never been happier for someone to get their ass kicked. Jungkook lands a punch straight across the face, causing Eric to stumble backwards. Even though you know nothing about boxing, Eric looks exhausted where Jungkook looks ready for more. With everything left in Eric, he starts coming after Jungkook. Jungkook blocks until he can’t block no more, but something in Jungkook’s stance changes. Jungkook steps forward, his right hand landing straight on Eric’s face cause his form to break. Jungkook steps quickly again, his left hand bringing an uppercut to Eric’s jaw.
The room nearly falls silent as Eric loses balance, going down straight on his back and head. When he hits the ground, the room erupts in a roar so loud it nearly deafens you.
“Holy shit!” Taehyung exclaims. The ref is down on the ground, counting down from 10, and then it’s at 5 and then 3 and then—
“Ladies and gentlemen, Jeon Jungkook wins this rematch!” The ref grabs Jungkook’s hand and holds it up over his head and you find yourself jumping up and down, pulling Taehyung down for a hug.
“Taehyung oh my fucking god!” You exclaim. He smiles brightly at you.
“I told you, he knows what he’s doing,” he says and you nod. You couldn’t deny it now—as stupid as Jungkook was for getting involved in this, his talent for the sport was extraordinary. “Come on, let’s get to his locker room,” Taehyung pulls you by your hand and you make your way back to where you were earlier.
Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet, but you find Yoongi already in there, setting out a first aid kit.
“Hey guys,” he says, “Great fight, huh?”
“Yeah, it was brilliant,” Taehyung says. The door opening catches your attention and Jungkook walks through with Jimin. Your eyes instantly meet and you can’t even stop yourself from running to him and throwing your arms around him. He exhales deeply with a sharp wince, returning your bone crushing grip with his own.
“Alright lovebirds, he needs to get fixed up,” Yoongi’s voice interrupts you two. You hesitantly let him go and he sits down in front of Yoongi, sitting forward on his knees. He’s still breathing heavy, dripping sweat everywhere.
“Fucking hell Jungkook, since when do you box southpaw?” Taehyung pushes his shoulder slightly and Jungkook only laughs as Yoongi wipes away the blood on his eyebrow.
“I’ve been working on it for awhile,” he says, “Just never had the right time to use it… until tonight at least,” he says giving you a glance. “Eric is all talk, no bite. I can’t fucking stand him.”
“Well, I don’t think you’ll be boxing him again anytime soon,” Jimin says, “He’s embarrassed himself twice now.”
“Yeah, agreed,” Yoongi chimes in, placing one of those bandaids that pull the skin together like stitches above Jungkook’s eyebrow. “No one will want to box you now knowing you can southpaw.”
Jungkook looks at you and you furrow your eyebrows at him. He said he wasn’t going to fight after this, but the way they are talking—it sounds as if he is.
“Well, I think my boxing career is probably over after tonight,” Jungkook speaks up as if he could read your mind. He tears his eyes away from you as the others look confused.
“What?!”
“Why?”
“Jungkook c’mon!”
“Guys,” he breathes out, “I made a promise, okay? Besides, I have enough money now, I don’t need anything else.”
Your features soften as you listen to his words. His promise was to you. A smile grows on your face as you watch his body calm down from his intensified state. Once Yoongi is finished, he packs everything up. The five of you talk amongst yourselves before Taehyung turns to you.
“You ready to go home?” He asks.
“I can take you home,” Jungkook says before you can answer.
“Okay,” you give him a small smile that he returns.
“Okay then, I’m gonna head out, I won’t be home tonight Jungkook,” he says.
“I know I know, at your girlfriends,” Jungkook swats his hand and Taehyung flips him off before leaving.
Jungkook stands up throwing on a shirt and slipping into Birkenstocks. “Come on,” he says to you, holding out his head. You gladly take it and it feels more like home than home ever has.
_____
“Fuck Jungkook, how much money is this?” You ask him as he hands you a white envelope as he unbuckles himself in the driver seat. The envelope is thick and you peak out of curiosity, your jaw dropping.
“I told you,” he says snatching it back from you, “As much food as I’ve bought you lately, hopefully this will last.”
You swat at his sarcastic comment before letting out a laugh. Instead of going home, you asked Jungkook to go anywhere but there. You’re parked outside of his apartment complex, which was fine with you. The two of you needed to talk. Not much talking goes on as a silence falls between you two.
“Y/N.”
“Jungkook.”
The two of you laugh as you speak at the same time.
“You first,” you say, turning your body to face him fully.
He takes a deep breath before speaking, “I know I said it earlier but I really am sorry about this past week. There’s not an excuse that justifies me acting like a complete dick to you, especially when you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”
You stay quiet, unsure of what to say.
“And when I said you’re the best part of my day… I fucking mean it. I’m sorry for coming onto you like I have, I just,” he doesn’t finish, his eyes looking everywhere but you.
“Jungkook,” you get his attention again, reaching over the console to grab his hand, “Don’t apologize for that. Yeah, you’ve been a dick each time something happens between us but that’s the apology I care about.”
“I just don’t know how to say it,” he mutters, caressing your hand gently.
“So you’re really not going to box anymore?” you inquire. Jungkook was good, more than good... it couldn’t be easy giving up on that.
He shakes his head, “No. I told you I didn’t want you worrying about me anymore. I keep my promises,” his smile his sweet and you swear your feel yourself melting more and more into his touch.
“Jungkook,” you let out a deep sigh, “I didn’t realize how much I needed you in my life until we became friends again. You know almost everything about me and I don’t want anyone else to ever take your place…”
It’s hanging there by a thread—the words on your tongue—and you’re not sure you can say them and they feel constricting—but you know you have to and—
“I love you,” the words come from your mouth and you feel like you could puke. “I don’t know when or why, but I’m in love with you Jungkook. You’re all I think about anymore and I don’t want anyone else when you’re right here.”
Jungkook parts his mouth, staring at you with a look you can’t read. Fuck, you fucked this up for sure.
“Shit—I know that was so rushed and stupid. Fuck I’m an idiot—“
“Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice interrupts you and you try to hide within your own body from embarrassment. With your hand of yours in his, he pulls on it, forcing you closer to him. You look at him wide eyed before he presses his lips against yours firmly. As usual, his lips feel so good and you melt into him. This is good right? What the hell is going on? You pull away from him after a few moments, an unsure look on your face.
He nuzzles his nose against your own before speaking, “I’ve wanted to tell you that since the night of our graduation.”
“Really?” You ask as you feel your palms sweat, heart racing.
He nods, “I’ve been in love with you for god knows how long now.”
A smile creeps upon your face and you let out a sigh of relief. Jungkook watches you with interest, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.
“I can take you home whenever,” he says quietly.
You’re quick to shake your head, “No, it’s okay… I can stay, if you want,” your voice trails off and you suddenly feel shy under his gaze.
You don’t notice how Jungkook bites his lip but he does say, “Yeah. Of course.”
_____
Jungkook’s apartment is how you remember it, though a lot quieter without Taehyung here. You’re sure the reason Jungkook’s apartment is spotless is because of him. He has always been clean and organized and Taehyung… well he was Taehyung.
“I’m gonna get in the shower, my room is in here if you wanna chill,” Jungkook says and you give him a small nod. He rids his shirt before he even closes the bathroom door and it makes you gulp. This is new territory for the both of you. The two of you just admitted your love for one another and you’re about to spend the night with Jungkook? And not in a friend way? Jesus Christ you could be tripping.
You walk into Jungkook’s room and it smells just like him. His bed is neatly made and his desk is sprawled with two computer monitors and some notebooks from school. His walls are decorated as you’d expect—a Korean flag hanging, a ‘Saturday’s Are For The Boys’ flag—typical—and a few Beta Tae Sigma plaques scattered. What catches your eye is a wall of neatly lined photos taped to the wall. You look around at all of them with a smile. Most of them are Jungkook and his frat brothers, Taehyung, a few of his older brother, there’s even a picture of you, him, Taehyung, and Jennie from high school. One that catches your eye the most is one of just you and him. It’s an old picture but the memories from that day flood your mind. It was from your first week of freshman year here at university. Both of your smiles are wide and you two are hugging each other’s frames closely. Jennie took the picture you remember. It makes you smile to yourself, butterflies entering in your stomach. Did you love Jungkook then and didn’t know it? The way you’re looking at him in the picture would say so.
You suddenly feel an urge to be close to him again. You’ve never been a ballsy person but as you look back at the bathroom door that’s closed, your desire to be touched again by Jungkook again overwhelms your senses. Closing your eyes briefly, you don’t need much more convincing before your stripping yourself of your jacket and shoes. You kick off your jeans and sweater, leaving you only in your undergarments. You tip toe to the bathroom, grabbing the handle, opening it easy.
The shower water is loud and there’s steam in the small quarters. Jungkook is humming to himself as you start to take off the rest of your clothing. With a deep breath, you grab the shower curtain, pulling it back. Jungkook’s back is facing you but he hears you instantly.
“Shit Y/N you scar—“ he stops mid sentence as he takes in your naked frame getting in the shower too.
“Hi,” you mumble meeting his eye contact.
“H-hey,” he nearly chokes on his own air, trying to keep his eyes up from your breasts.
“Scooch,” you smirk at him to move to get underneath the water too. He does as you say watching you curiously. You’re in the process of wetting your hair when his chest is pressed firmly against your back.
“This wasn’t expected,” he says into your ear, his hands moving to grip your waist from behind.
“You’re the one that wanted me to go home with you,” you say giving him an innocent glance over your shoulder. He laughs biting his lip, pressing them against the skin behind of your ear. You lean into the physical contact, feeling almost all of your stress go away instantly.
You spin around to look at him fully as it’s a frenzy whose mouth collides with whose. He leans down to grasp your lips in their entirety, pulling you closer to him than you ever have been. He pulls you away from the water so it doesn’t get in your face as he presses you against the shower wall. His tongue dips in and out of your mouth, his hands free roaming over your breasts and down to your ass, whatever he likes within the moment. Your hands grip his dark locks as he moves his mouth from your mouth, to your neck, down to your chest. He waste no time taking your right nipple in his mouth and you exhale deeply at the feeling.
You pull his face back to yours, kissing him again not able to get enough of his lips. His hands trail down from your ass to the front of your thighs, getting closer and closer to your wet center.
“Is this okay?” He asks as his fingers rub slowly back forth between your entrance. You can barely speak as his touch is setting you on fire but you manage to nod.
“Yes, please, Jungkook,” you say. He enters one finger, then another stretching you out nicely. Fuck you forgot how good this felt with him.
“Fuck you’re so wet,” he breathes heavily and you glance down at his hardening cock. Your mouth waters at the sight. Jungkook lifts one of your legs and starts to take his fingers in and out of you slowly and agonizing. He fingers you deep and rough and you can already feel a climax coming.
“Shit,” you croak out as Jungkook rubs one of your nipples, kissing your neck. There’s a pain at the back of your head at his force pushing you against the wall but it’s easy to ignore when it feels so good below your waist. “Jungkook, I’m gonna come,” you say as the snap inside of you is about to break.
“Come on baby,” his voice is deep and groggy. As if on cue, you feel your climax wash over you and you’re not shy to be loud. You know no one is here so it doesn’t bother you one bit. Jungkook kisses you against feverishly as he pulls his fingers from you. You feel impossibly empty but you know what you want to do and you’re not near anywhere tired. Your hands travel down to his front, grasping his hard dick in your hands. God, he’s so big.
“Oh fuck,” Jungkook seethes through his teeth as you pull on the sensitive skin, all the way from his pubic hair down to the tip. He places a hand beside of your head, leaning forward against your forehead. His eyes are shut tightly and you lick your lips, wanting to take him in your mouth.
You push him away from you slightly and move down to your knees, your face front and center with his beautiful dick. You take no time to put him in your mouth which causes Jungkook to groan loudly.
“Y/N,” he says looking down at you. He’s never seen a better sight. You make sure to keep eye contact as you bob your head up and down his shaft. While one of Jungkook’s hands stays against the wall, his other grips your hair, fisting it into a makeshift ponytail. “Oh fuck—He pulls on your hair and it only makes you want to please him more. Your left hand go to his balls, the right helping you up and down his length. He pulls your hair again and you take as much of him as you can. His tip reaches the back of your throat and you gag around his length and Jungkook thinks he could actually cry. Watching you through half open lids, he decides this isn’t how he is going to come—not tonight at least.
He grabs your hair and pulls you away from him and you’re slightly confused when he brings you to your feet.
“Come on, I need to be inside of you,” he says and you nod eagerly as he turns off the shower. He leads you out of the bathroom in a frenzy, pulling up into his bedroom. You shut the door behind you and he pins you against it, kissing you hard and deep.
Both of you are dripping wet but neither of you care to dry off as he carries you to his bed. You settle on his lap as his hands rest on your waist tightly. Your hands grip his face just as tight but you’re careful not to touch his injury above his brow. You couldn’t believe he was just fighting two hours ago—that seemed like forever ago compared to now. A lot can change in a short period of time and it makes you slightly chuckle against his mouth.
“What?” He breaks the kiss asking you with a hazy grin.
You shake your head, “Nothing,” you smile pushing his hair from his forehead. You liked seeing it. “I love you,” you repeat. And you probably won’t stop, ever.
“I love you too,” he says, “So much.”
“Let me ride you,” you whisper in his ear and his eyes light up like a child. “Are you clean?” You ask him.
He nods quickly, “You?” You nod in response and both of you feel excited and anxious.
You rub your hand against his length again and you hold it up as you adjust yourself to sit on him. As soon as his tip enters you, a shiver runs down your spine. As you sink yourself lower, groans come from both of your mouths, a deep moan erupting from you when you bottom out.
“Oh my god,” you breathe in and out to control yourself.
“Ride me baby,” he says and you start to move your hips against his. He fills up every inch of you and it feels so good. Your hips lift away from his and he chases them with his own thrusts. He kisses your neck as you throw your head back, your hands digging into his shoulders for leverage.
“Fuck Jungkook,” you say seeing stars in your eyes, “You feel so good,” you whine.
“You have no idea,” he says against your sticky skin, one of his hands bruising into your waist helping you ride him in a fluid motion. “Goddammit,” he says.
As you grind against him, your clit rubs against his pubic hair, sending your toes curling. He senses that you’ve found your sweet spot against him and places his thumb there instead to rub the sensitive bud.
You feel yourself inching closer and closer to a second climax when Jungkook stalls your motion.
“Lay on your stomach,” he breathes and you do as he says climbing off of him quickly. He doesn’t even give you time to get there all the way before he’s grabbing your hips to pull your ass to him. He slides right into you and you nearly scream into his mattress. Your hands grip the sheets as he fucks you deeper from behind. He smacks your ass once, twice sending a loud whine from your mouth.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter trying to focus on Jungkook’s whines and small ministrations from his mouth. He reaches forward, rubbing your clit again and you want to die and go to heaven at the feeling. Neither of you try to be quiet anymore as you feel the second orgasm coming over you. You clench and unclench around Jungkook’s length as he stalls his thrusts to feel the action.
“Come inside of me,” you say, knowing both of you are clean and you have an IUD.
“Jesus,” he breathes, picking up his pace again chasing after his own high. As the sensitivity becomes too much, Jungkook finally lets go, coming deep inside of you. He holds your hips close against him, trying to deepen his climax as far as possible. The hot cum inside of you feels good and you moan at the feeling.
When Jungkook finishes completely in you, he pulls out with a sigh. You collapse against the bed, completely spent. Jungkook finds a clean rag in his pile of clean laundry and is quick to clean yourself and him up. You feel like you can barely move as Jungkook joins you in his bed. He turns you over to face him and he kisses you gently which you return happily.
“I love you,” he says for the third time tonight, kissing your nose.
“I love you too,” you entangling your legs together. The room is silent apart from your breathing and you’re about to go to sleep when he nudges you with his hand.
“Come on,” he says.
“What?” You ask.
“Let’s actually take a shower now since someone wouldn’t let me,” he eyes you with accusation.
You squint at him before flipping him off. “Fuck off.”
_____
The next morning you wake up with Jungkook hugging you from behind, his face nuzzeled in your hair. You have no clue what the time may be, but you since it’s early by the way the birds chirp out the window. You stretch out your arms as best as you could and try to move your legs, but it doesn’t work since Jungkook’s heavy legs are tangled with your own. You’re tempted to fall back asleep but when Jungkook moves behind you, you turn to see his ruckus. You’re met with his brown eyes and you jump slightly, not expecting to see him awake. Both of you let out the faintest of laughs, not saying anything.
Jungkook leans over and kisses your lips, “Good morning.” His voice is groggy and he shuts his eyes again as you fully turn your body to his.
“Good morning,” you respond, watching the way his chest rises and falls gently. “How’d you sleep?”
“Hmm, really good,” he mumbles. You are about to join him in closing your eyes again until a loud rumble comes from your belly. Jungkook laughs.
“Hungry much?”
“Starving,” you groan, “I didn’t eat dinner last night.”
“Why not?”
“I was too nervous before your match… I thought I would yak if I ate,” you answer. Stupid, you know, but it was your train of thought last night.
He opens his eyes again, “Let’s go to the diner for breakfast… employee discount.”
You glare at him, “Is that all I am to you? A fucking employee discount,” you say saracastically.
“And my girlfriend if that helps?” He raises an eyebrow. Your cheeks heat up and you smile.
“Welllll, since my boyfriend is rich now and gets a discount, I’m assuming he’s paying.”
He smirks, “Obviously.”
“Will you take me to my place so I can change? And then we’ll go?”
He nods, his hand caressing the side of your body, “As much as I wanna stay in bed, I could really go for pancakes right now.”
“Waffles are superior,” you remark.
He frowns with a disgusted face, “Get the fuck out of my bed you heathen.”
_____
Jungkook insisted on coming up to your apartment with you because he didn’t want to wait in the car, but you know he just wants to see you change in front of him. Boys are all the fucking same.
As you fumbled with the key, the door opens and whatever Jungkook is saying to you is suddenly drowned out when you see—
“Jennie?”
“Taehyung?”
The names leave yours and Jungkook’s mouth as you watch the scene in front of you. Jennie is sitting on the counter, Taehyung in between her legs with a coffee cup in hand. Could be worse but what the fuck is going on?!
“Shit,” Jennie says pushing away Taehyung. “Hey guys,” she smiles awkwardly. You and Jungkook look at each other confused before Jungkook speaks.
“Uh, Taehyung?” He asks and Taehyung is. as red as a tomato.
“Oh fuck,” Jennie mutters shaking her head. She looks at Taehyung for backup.
Taehyung pinches his nose before speaking, “Um… we’re dating.”
You and Jungkook have the same reaction as your mouth drops.
“Jennie is your secret girlfriend?” Jungkook asks.
“Surprise,” Jennie smiles again looking at you.
You look at Jungkook and shake your head at the four of you. What a fucking cliché.
The four of you go to breakfast together that morning and it’s like old times, just with a sprinkle of something new. As long as the four of you have known each other, you’ve always had each other’s backs. Even now, with you and Jungkook and Jennie and Taehyung—you know that would never change from here on out. Turns out, Jennie just thought her and Taehyung were friends with benefits, while Taehyung was telling everyone he had a girlfriend because he was that smitten with her. The four of you laugh at the situation at hand and you couldn’t believe everyone was back together... like this. As Jungkook’s pancakes and your waffles arrive, Jungkook’s beaming smile lighting the whole room you think to yourself—this is how it’s supposed to be.
#jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook drabble#jungkook scenario#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#bts#bts x reader#bts x you#bts drabble#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#bangtan#bangtan scenarios#jjk#kim namjoon#kim taehyung#park jimin#jung hoseok#min yoongi#enjoy guys!!#let me know what you think#please i'm desperate for attention lol#boxer au#college au#childhood friends to lovers
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how far we’ve come: jj maybank
how far we’ve come is my jj maybank x kook oc book. (probably gonna be first of many) my character’s name is Theodora Grace Thornton whom is the younger sister of Topper Thornton. (their twins but she is the younger one.
- Theodora and Topper were born on April 12th 2003
- Their mother was so convinced on the fact that she was having two boys she didn’t even begin to think that one of her unborn babies may be a girl, hence why her name is ‘Theodora’ it was originally going to be Theo but that was shut down by their father.
- Her middle name is Grace, after their fathers mother. He wanted her to be named Grace but Cynthia was so stuck on naming the young girl ‘Theodora’
- the nickname “Gracie’ is only said by two people in her life, them being her father and her then friend JJ Maybank. She prefers it anyways.
- on her eighth birthday, her father gifted the girl with a sage green bandana and she worse it till it met it’s ends meet.
- Theodora has been friends with Kiara Carrera and Sarah Cameron since they were in elementary school. That is how Theo meets the rest of the Pouges. which is how she also got a job at the Wreck, it was not normal for Kook kids to have a job, but it made her fell better about everything if she dipped in and helped her mother out with things at home.
- Sarah Cameron, another Kook from the Outer Banks met the girl when they were both ten, which is how Theodora met Rafe, who is three years older than the girl.
- Rafe and Theodora were close when they were young, this is what lead to them becoming girlfriend and boyfriend. Rafe was her first everything.
- there is a slight age gap between the two of them but that didn’t bother them as much. It was a Kook thing tbh. There was at least a 12 year age gap between her parents.
- The twins 15th birthday was when their father left them to be with a woman who was ‘younger’ than their mother. and to be honest their mother was a lot of work. the father moved to California to go and be with his new ‘family’ this broke both of the twins but more so Theodora. Her father was the only one who really understood her.
- three weeks before her 15th birthday the green bandana that she has had for a long time ripped (due to Topper being an idiot) and she was not happy about it. The new one was the last thing that her father gave to her before he left.
- the first time that Theodora knew that there was something off with Rafe was at a keger at boneyard. She hadn’t want to join her boyfriend, brother and the rest of their friends that night but Rafe had convinced her other wise. Theodora was sat by herself and that is when JJ Maybank comes into this story. He knew her, she had hung out with the Pouges a few times threw out previous summers on the island and he admired her, to the fact that she was able to put up with her brother, boyfriend and the rest of the Kook’s because Theodora Grace Thornton was nothing like her family at all.
- JJ came by and sat with her offering her a drink, which she accepted and the two started to talk, and of course one of the other Kooks went and told both Rafe and Topper. Making them both mad at the fact that a dirty pouge was talking to someone who was not of his status.
- It was the first time ever that she had seen him mad like that, he gripped her wrists until they were white. JJ was held back by both Topper and Kelce, JJ wanted nothing more than to dropped the hold that the two had on him and beat the living crap out of Rafe for how he was handling Theodora. He cared for her.
- Theodora was able to break free of the Rafe’s grasp and got him to calm down, by telling him that herself and JJ were not friends and that he was just asking about school the next day.
- This clearly hurts JJ but he knew that she was doing it to protect him. but he somehow lost respect for her because of that.
THEODORA GRACE THORNTON portrayed by FLORENCE PUGH
top quote’s’ -
‘ i know your walls are closed off but i am nothing like them. meeting you jj grayson maybank has been one of the biggest honors of my life. ‘
‘rafe, rafe come on. let him go. he isn’t bad okay? trust me, okay?’
‘i got you maybank, i got you.’
JJ MAYBANK portrayed by RUDY PANKOW
top quote’s’ -
'and here i was thinking that you were another one of those kook bastards.'
'you touch gracie again and i will rip the perfect brown locks from your head.'
‘i think i’m in love man and it scares the hell out of me, no one has ever loved me before. what the hell do i do?’
RAFE CAMERON portrayed by DREW STARKEY
top quote’s’ -
'hey, tell theodora she looks hot for a pouge.'
'you don't get it do you? you're it! you're it for me, you're my everything and i don't know what i am going to do without you.'
TOPPER THORNTON portrayed by AUSTIN NORTH
top quote’s’ -
'they're dirty pouges, you do not want to be around them. stay away from them, from him.'
'you're my sister, it's been difficult since dad left i know, but we need to stick together. i cannot loose you too.'
‘why are defending a murder? for all i know you were in on it to... i can’t trust you, you’re gonna have to find somewhere else to stay.’
honorable mentions;
John Booker Routledge:
this boy took her in when topper and their mum kicked her out of her own home. he allowed her to stay at the Château for as long as she needed and it really did help her more than anything. because no one else in her family would help her out.
'never did i think in a million years would theodora grace thornton would become a pouge, either way. i'm glad you did. i haven't seen jj this happy in a long time.'
John B is happy that his best-friend has found someone who understands him and would not leave him when it gets too hard. he could and can see that they were meant for each other
Sarah Cameron:
it is because of her she met rafe, at first it was good but then it got bad. sarah wanted to help her friend but then she knew that she would be hurting her own brother, her own flesh and blood so she kept quite about the way that rafe treated her. they have known each other for so long but that doesn’t mean that theodora like the girl, she did when they were younger but as they grew up she realised that sarah was a ‘bad person’ so she separated herself from the other blonde and only spoke to her at functions that her parents would attend to.
'you broke rafe when he saw you with jj, but all that i know is that you're so happy with that boy. he's your world.'
sarah wanted to break theodora for hurting her brother but she was in the same boat as the Thornton girl. both of them left the two Kook’s for pouges. so she could not stay mad at her.
#outer banks#outer banks fic#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fic#drew starkey#drew starkey fic#jj maybank#jj maybank x oc#rudy pankow#john b routledge#chase stokes#kiara carrera#pope heyward#maddison bailey#sarah cameron#madelyn cline
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Wasabi Chocolates
Genre: Ten x reader (gender neutral), co-workers, one-sided hate to love, humour, fluff
Warnings: the number of times I wrote “oh my god,” swear words, somewhat mentally violent reader (’you’re going crazy~’ because of Ten), physical injury, cats (sorry to those allergic)
Abbrev: F/N L/N = first name last name
Word count: 6k
Plot: You were a good child, always being nice to your classmates in elementary school. Unlike Ten who was always a troublemaker. When your family decided to move away during middle school, you were relieved thinking that you weren’t ever going to see him again. But you were wrong a decade later when your new co-worker was none other than the devil himself.
A/N: You’ll see that I watch a lot of cat vlogs. Please let me know if there are any issues in terms of the gender-neutral assignment.
- ❀ -
“Oh my God! Did you hear about the new guy that got hired in our department? I heard he’s super hot!” Sally gushed.
Your colleagues around you continued to gossip while your gaze was fixed onto the word document on your monitor. It didn’t faze you that the workspace next to yours was going to be occupied soon.
“Wow Y/N, aren’t you lucky?”
You rolled your eyes. Who knew how the new employee was going to turn out in terms of work habits? You were always punctual when completing work before deadlines and arriving for work, except for the times when the brutal winter would take forever to heat your car up. You were hardworking and smart, always getting praised by your higher-ups. You were proud of the compliments, but you mainly did it for self discipline. You loved your coworkers. They were all productive like you and adored you back. You were always genuinely nice to them, ready to help them out whenever they needed a helping hand. It made you happy that your workplace was a healthy environment and you looked forward to working there every day.
You hoped the new co-worker would be no exception.
“We’ll see about that when he starts. When is he coming?” you asked.
“Tomorrow.”
- ❀ -
The next morning you arrived a little earlier than usual, wanting to welcome the newbie and give him a tour around the building. You placed your tote bag that had a poorly self-drawn picture of your cat and turned on your desktop monitor, displaying the wallpaper of your sleeping cat on your bed. You smiled, your heart fluttering at how cute Sakura looked. You heard the doors slide open of your department, signaling an arrival. Removing your gaze from the monitor, you stood up ready to greet them warmly.
Only to have your blood turn cold and your face scrunched up ever so slightly when you realized who it was.
An amused smile grew on his face. “Wow! I can’t believe this. The one and only F/N L/N is my work buddy.”
Ten.
He was the new employee that was going to be located beside you.
The same troublemaker from elementary school. The one who’d make fun of the new kids with accents, start fights with other boys, be loud and obnoxious in class, and worst of all, act all high mighty as if he was the most important person in the school.
You scoffed. There went your hope jumping out the tenth-floor window. Hope for your new co-worker to be no exception to the healthy workplace environment. “I feel a headache coming,” you muttered to yourself.
- ❀ -
Ten had settled down at his workspace, and your colleagues gathered around him, asking about himself. He took out something from his bag, a gift for his new coworkers.
“Wow Ten! You’re so cool!” Sally fanned herself as if Ten’s coolness was too much for her to handle.
“I know right.” Ten had a smug smile on his face.
You scoffed from your seat. “Who the fuck brings wine to work?” Ten had brought a red wine bottle as a ‘please take care of me’ gift. Who was even going to drink it during work hours?
“It looks like someone doesn’t know how to have fun,” he threw shade at you.
You glared at him, your blood boiling the more you heard his voice.
“Y/N doesn’t. That’s why she’s still single,” Mina agreed.
You started at her in disbelief. “Excuse me, but I’m living a grand life.”
“Please, I’m tired of hearing your love stories with your cat.”
Ten’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Woah! You have a cat? That’s so cool!” he gushed.
You rolled your eyes. “I thought you saw my computer screen already.”
He got onto his feet quickly and bent down to hover over your shoulder. The close proximity between you two sent your heart beating erratically. “Wow... What’s her name? She’s so cute,” he cooed, straightening his spine up.
Your heartbeat went back to normal and you heaved out a sigh in relief. “Sakura, and how do you know she’s a female?”
He held up two fingers. “I have two cats. And I love cats so much that I can accurately guess if they’re a he or she.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, a smirk forming on his face. “I beat you. You have one and I have two cats.”
If you weren’t at work, you would have chucked a pencil at him. And you couldn’t believe your ears. You both had one thing in common after all those childhood years when you’d compare your good self to his bad one.
The day went by super slow, all thanks to the devil. You had given him a tour of the building, trying to keep your cool to the best of your ability whenever he made remarks. Once you explained the work for the day, you tried to focus on your work.
It hadn’t been a few seconds when you felt a poke in the shoulder. “Y/N, how do I do this? What is this supposed to mean? Why are we doing this?”
Like the way your hope did, you wanted to jump out the window.
- ❀ -
A couple of days later, Ten had picked up everything that you taught him, even completing his work faster than you. Your pace had only slowed down a bit because of the living distraction next to you. He had changed the desktop wallpaper to a selfie with his two cats. You weren’t ever going to admit this out loud, but he looked just a little bit cute with the adorable furry felines.
Your boss had announced that there was going to be a lunch party happening at the end of the week to welcome the newly hired employees in the company. Parties and such weren’t your thing anymore. Lifestyle habits changed after adopting your beautiful Sakura. But the reason why you kind of looked forward to it was because of a particular someone from another department.
“You know what this means?” Mina wiggled her eyebrows.
“What?”
“Shoot your shot! Who knows someone will catch your eyes at the party?”
“Or a secret admirer of yours finally asks you out,” Joshua added.
“Which is not happening,” you said. “My luck isn’t that great.”
Flashbacks to your previous failed dates haunted you and you didn’t have it in you to try again. You were happy with Sakura and did your best to stay positive, convincing yourself that your love for your cat was enough to be happy in your successful life.
Your last words had Ten staring at you intently.
- ❀ -
Your group walked to the location of the lunch party on the main floor. Your heart wasn’t exactly beating fast, only doing a few somersaults. Upon entering the main hall, you saw many employees from other departments chatting with one another. Your eyes scanned the area to search for a particular boy.
You found him. He wore a black suit with a white-collar shirt. His dark hair neatly styled. Xiaojun, you believed was his name based on that one time he had delivered a speech at a mass conference. You had never talked to him and didn’t find it in you to do so. You could tell he was way younger than you and that stopped you from approaching him. If you talked to him, it would only make you feel like you were talking to your son than your crush.
Ten followed your line of sight and smirked. “Wow, does my Y/N have a crush on someone?”
Your heart stopped and turned to glare at him. “What the fuck do you mean my Y/N?”
He snickered. “So you like him, huh?”
Sally’s ears piqued interest. “Oh my God! Did I just hear that Y/N has a crush?”
“Finally someone other than her cat!” Mina cried. “Who who?” Her head turned in all directions as if she was going to find someone holding a sign saying ‘I’m her crush.’
You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Ugh! I don’t! Ten’s just being an asshole.”
“Hey! I only speak the truth!”
Joshua spoke up. “Okay fine Y/N. Let’s say you don’t have a crush. Is there someone in this room that catches your eye?”
Even if someone did, you weren’t going to admit it. But for your colleagues’ sake, you pretended to search the room. “No.”
Before they could force you to go around and show your face, a group of people walked into the hall, carrying various foods for the lunch party and placing them on the white clothed tables lined up near the wall. A guy carried a plate of what looked like chocolates and placed it on the desserts table. You recognized the guy being Yuta, having bumped into him a couple of times when going out for Japanese meals and making small talks. Though you found it weird that he only brought a small box when there were at least two hundred people present.
You remembered Yuta saying that he loved pranking people and if the chocolates were the bait for his next prank, an idea formed in your head.
“Okay guys, I have an idea.”
“Huh?” Mina was bewildered from your sudden declaration.
“I’m going to make your wish come true.”
“Woah what do you mean? You’re gonna ask someone out?” Joshua grew excited by your words.
You nodded. “If someone eats that chocolate Yuta brought without making a reaction, I’ll ask them out on one date.”
Your colleagues showed a mixed reaction of shock and excitement. Ten was silently watching you with his eyes holding a shine.
Yes, you could have been wrong and Yuta may have brought chocolates for people who were lucky to get their hands on it first. But when the first victim when up to take a bite of the chocolate, your theory had turned out right. It was a prank. The woman’s face scrunched up in disgust and turned red.
Ten saw this, trying to think of the possible things that could be inside the chocolates. He could handle spicy things easily, but he didn’t like fruits and hoped those weren’t inside.
He was curious about you, loved annoying you to the point you were pulling your hair. A date sounded like the perfect thing in order to have more fun with you. He knew you’d never agree to one with him, knowing the bad reputation he had as a child. Your reaction to when he first walked into the department on his first day was enough to confirm that you still held onto the ill thoughts of him.
He walked through the crowds before another person would snatch the opportunity. He observed the round chocolates, definitely handcrafted, and were perfectly sealed off without anyone doubting its contents. He picked one up and headed back to you.
You were puzzled to see Ten hold a piece of Yuta’s chocolate. Your brain feared for the possibility of what Ten had in mind.
Mina squealed. “Don’t tell me you’re going to eat the chocolate Y/N was talking about!”
Ten gave you a mischievous smirk while you shook your head. “Don’t you dare,” you breathed out.
“You didn’t put any restrictions.” While holding eye contact with you, he placed the chocolate in his mouth, not biting it right away.
Your heart felt uneasy. You hoped desperately for Ten to lose the challenge.
He slowly bit into the sweet cocoa shell, testing the filling. He felt the heat of the spicy pungent flavour explode in his mouth, immediately figuring out that the filling was wasabi. Good thing he broke the round shell slowly so he could get used to the taste instead of being thrown under the bus and distorting his face.
Ten chewed calmly as you began panicking. If he finished eating the chocolate without making a single face, you were doomed. Why Ten out of everyone? Why would Ten even be interested in going on a date with you?
After a minute, he opened his mouth.
Your heart dropped.
The pungent smell of wasabi hit your nose but nothing was in his mouth. He finished it.
“So Y/N, this means I get to go out with you,” he stated with a triumph smile.
How do you get away with murder without reading books for ideas?
- ❀ -
You unlocked the door to your apartment, gently opening it to find Sakura sitting by the door, waiting for you excitedly.
“Awe my baby!” you cooed and picked her up.
She nuzzled into your cozy sweater and purred.
“Are you hungry, girl?”
A meow as a reply.
You put her down and made your way to the kitchen. As you prepared her meal, you thought back to Ten’s words on his first day.
I have two cats.
Poor cats. You felt bad for their unfortunate fate of having Ten as their owner.
You placed the elevated food bowl on the counter and called her. She jumped effortlessly onto the counter and stuffed her head inside the bowl.
A notification chimed on your phone, followed by another one, and another one. “Huh, who could that be?” you asked to yourself.
3 unread messages: Ten
You groaned upon seeing the devil’s name. This would only mean one thing.
Ten: tmrw’s saturday
Ten: let’s go on that date
Ten: uwu
You cringed at the last message. He was nowhere near uwu in your eyes. You also didn’t want to go out with him this soon, but it was better to get it over with than having to put it off.
Y/N: fine
Y/N: 2pm at the shopping mall
Ten: see you tmrw babe ;)
You gagged.
- ❀ -
It was 1:52 pm and you waited at the entrance of the mall, scrolling through your gallery on the phone. Why did you come early? A habit of yours. And when you were supposed to be on a ‘date’ with a devil that you despised greatly, it was better to arrive early and calm yourself down before you could murder him at first sight. You chose the mall, thinking it was better to walk around than having to sit across him and look at his face the entire time. Plus, you were almost positive that your window shopping was going to be torturous for Ten.
“Boo!”
“Ah!” You whipped around to see the devil laughing his ass off.
“Oh my God Y/N. You should have seen your face.” Ten mimicked your scream, exaggerating it with a funny face.
You puffed. “Shut up!”
“Okay okay. No need to frown. So what are we here for?” He rubbed his palms together excited for the date.
You rolled your eyes. “This is a shopping mall. We’re obviously here to shop.”
“Yeah but anything in particular?”
You shook your head. If anything caught your eye for Sakura, then that was it. Your plan was to walk around window shopping long enough that Ten would start whining and leave you.
And never dare to go out with you again.
You expected him to play it cool if he didn’t like the idea, but his wide grin and sparkling eyes told you otherwise. “Perfect! We can walk around and see if we find something for our cats. I actually have some art supplies to buy too.”
Your heart dropped, not expecting the uno reverse card.
He noticed your fallen face, knowing the reason behind it and cooed. “Awe your so cute!” He pinched your cheek, in which you swatted his hand away.
He laughed with his crinkling eyes while heat rose up to your cheeks.
“Let’s go!” Ten clung onto your arm and pulled you with him. You didn’t have it in you to pull out of his grasp when your heart was hammering in your chest.
- ❀ -
The next time you arrived at work, you were surprised to find Ten already at his desk. He usually arrived after you.
“Morning Y/N!” he chirped.
You never realized how handsome he really was when sweetly smiling at you.
Every day your cold heart towards him melted whenever he’d ask if you wanted coffee or needed any help. Whenever he’d leave his workspace with his desktop wallpaper displayed on the monitor, you stared at the selfie picture and your heart picked up its pace at the cute cats and Ten’s smile.
One day, you arrived to work with your heart expecting to see the cute kitten in the form of a human, only to be disappointed by his absence. All your colleagues had arrived on time shortly, except for the one beside you. It was past 10 am, an hour after the expected arrival time, which you thought was weird for Ten to be away from work without informing anyone.
Your phone vibrated beside you, displaying an unknown number. “Weird,” you mumbled but answered in case it had something to do with Ten. “Hello?”
“Hello, am I speaking to Y/N?” An unknown female’s voice was heard over the line.
“Yes?”
“Hello, I’m calling from the hospital regarding a patient named Ten.”
Your body froze. Hospital? Patient? “Oh my God! What happened to Ten?” You didn’t know you were loud for others to hear you. A sick feeling formed in your stomach at the thought of Ten being hurt.
“Not to worry too much. He has a minor injury and he requested for you.”
You grabbed your belongings and sprinted out the office.
- ❀ -
Your eyes scanned the room full of patients sitting on the beds, waiting for either the doctor or their loved ones.
“Y/N! Over here!” Your head snapped in his direction, where he sat on the bed with a cast on his arm. The boy really only knew how to smile, even when he was injured with his dominant arm.
“Why the fuck are you here? What happened to you?” you yelled full of anger.
A nurse attending another patient hushed you, and you muttered a sheepish apology.
“I was on my way to work and on the crosswalk-”
“Ten, why don’t you look both ways before crossing the road? Why do you always do reckless things? How are you going to work now? Even worse, how are you going to take care of yourself and your cats?”
“Woah, easy there tiger. It’s just a small cast. I’ll be fine,” Ten waved his free hand in a dismissive manner. “Everything will be okay.”
You groaned, frustrated with his carefree attitude. “Why do you love causing so much trouble? What the hell is wrong with you?”
He didn’t say anything back, opting to stay mute with pursed lips. Of course you wouldn’t have anything to say, you thought.
A man appeared beside you. “Hello. Are you Ten?” he asked the boy on the bed.
Ten nodded. “Yes I am.”
You gave the man a quick glance who wore a black formal suit. He couldn’t be working at the hospital with that kind of attire.
“Hi, I’m Taeyong. I want to sincerely apologize and thank you with all my heart for this morning.”
Wait what? “What happened this morning?” you asked him utterly confused. Why was this man saying thank you and sorry to Ten?
“My son was crossing the road and wasn’t paying attention to the pedestrian lights, almost getting hit by a car.”
You gasped audibly. “Oh no! Is he alright?”
He smiled at you. “Yes he is. All thanks to Ten for jumping into the traffic and saving him.”
Ten? Ten saved a child? Ten risked his safety to save someone? Your heart fluttered as you gaped at the one you’d always call the devil, for once having done an angelic deed to save a child’s life.
Ten avoided your eyes and looked at Taeyong. “It’s not a problem at all. I hope he’s okay.”
Taeyong nodded. “Yes he is. As a form of gratitude, I’d like to pay for your hospital bills.”
“Oh there’s no need-”
“I insist. Please,” Taeyong pleaded, not willing to back down.
Ten let out a deep sigh. “Okay. If you really don’t mind.”
Taeyong smiled warmly. “It’s the least I can do. I’ll take your leave and pay at the front. Take care, Ten.” With that, Taeyong left.
You huffed. “So you were just to leave me in the dark and not tell me?”
He shrugged. “You cut me off before I could explain.”
Oh right. “Sorry,” you mumbled.
He nodded. “Apology accepted... under one condition.”
You rapidly blinked a few times. Condition? “Okay what is it?” You still felt guilty for jumping to conclusion and you were ready to take him on another date if that was what he wanted. But you were still confused that Ten even wanted to go on a date with you earlier.
An innocent smile formed on his face. “I’m going to need help now that my one arm isn’t working.”
You nodded, agreeing to his words, and expected that much. “How can I help?”
“Live with me.”
“WHAT?” You earned another hush from the nearby nurse and apologized again. “I am not living with you. I have Sakura to take care of and she has a problem adjusting to new environments,” you said through gritted teeth.
“Then I’ll come live with you. Louis and Leon have no problem with that,” he stated seriously.
“That doesn’t solve anything. You know our cats have to get used to each other first. Otherwise they’ll just be hissing at each other every day.”
“Anything to do with cats, leave it to me. I’ll fix all the problems.” He smirked for the nth time. “So that means you’re okay with me living with you, huh?”
If he didn’t have a cast on him, you would have grabbed the pillow off the bed and chucked it at his face.
- ❀ -
“Your place is pretty cute. Like you,” Ten said while his eyes wandered around your small apartment. You heard him say the last part but chose to ignore it, assuming that he was either lying or joking.
The old you would have never agreed to let Ten live with you. But your feelings were slowly developing for the devil and you wanted to slap yourself for that. Why Ten out of anyone? And even though you went out with Ten, why was he okay with you?
Oh yes, you both had cats.
All your previous dates had made a dash towards the exit upon hearing your love for your cat. It was only three dates, but it was enough for you to pull the brakes on dating. You couldn’t figure why they had a problem with that. Wasn’t it normal to have a pet? Maybe yours was taking it a little too far and it seemed more like an obsession. You only ever thought about Sakura, bringing every little thing to connect to Sakura during the conservations. Every time you looked at your date, your mind went on overdrive thinking about what Sakura was up to. You had a security camera set up in the living room to check on her through the phone app.
Needless to say, you were more concerned about your cat than your dates, and that made you never hear back from them again.
Upon entry of the strangers in her home, Sakura ran up to the highest tier of the cat tower, hissing as her little furs stood up.
“Sakura don’t worry. They won’t hurt you,” you spoke softly while patting her backside.
Ten chuckled. “Sakura is feisty, just like you.”
You glared at him. “I never show my feisty side.”
He scoffed. “Please, it’s literally written all over your face.” He smirked and added, “It’s quite entertaining.”
You scowled.
Sakura continued hissing in the direction of the other cats. Louis and Leon were still in their carriers, looking around curiously through the windows.
“Meow?”
“Yes Leon, we’re staying here until I get better.” Ten took out a blanket from one of his bags and spread it out in the living room. He unzipped Leon’s carrier and waited for the cat to courageously come out. After a few seconds of popping his head out and looking around, Leon hopped out and nuzzled against the familiar blanket, not minding the hissing from the top of the tower.
Louis was next, and unlike Leon, Louis began his tour around his temporary home.
“When do you have to take your pain medication?” you asked.
“Before dinner. What should we eat?”
“You’re the patient. You should decide.”
He hummed for a bit. “How about ramen? I’m craving for those instant ramen noodles.”
Wow. You could really start tallying up all the similarities that you both had, and the thought of it made your heart skip a beat.
“Perfect. I have a stash of it,” you replied.
He grinned at you and you looked away from his eyes, coughing out of nervousness. “Um, for bed you can either take my room or sleep on this pull-out daybed here.” You were grateful for your selection of a furniture that came three-in-one for your living room. Sofa, additional storage, and bed. It was wiser to go for a multifunctional product when living in an apartment.
Ten’s eyes narrowed in amusement. “Wow is F/N L/N really giving up the bedroom for me?”
You froze. You didn’t think of it beforehand and worried if your heart was going to get caught. He was injured and you didn’t have it in you to force him on the daybed when he could feel better on your queen-sized bed. But if he was going to pull your leg, then you were going to take back the offer. “Fine, be in the living room.”
He smiled kindly. “I wouldn’t take your room even if you insisted. But I really appreciate the thought, Y/N,” he spoke softly.
The way his eyes brightened when fixed on you had your heart ready to jump out the window.
- ❀ -
Sakura’s bed was usually in the living room. But because of the strangers that hijacked there, she moved into your bedroom. It didn’t really make a big difference to you as she sometimes slept next to you in bed. Meanwhile, you were surprised that Louis and Leon had adjusted fairly quickly to both the new home and its owners.
You got out of the bathroom after taking your bedtime shower, cuing Ten to go in next. Walking into the kitchen, you prepared a glass of warm milk for yourself. Leon and Louis began meowing and purring at your drink and so you decided to prepare three bowls of it. You placed the bowls for Leon and Louis down on the floor, in which they began sipping immediately, while keeping Sakura’s on the counter, her preferred location for meals and away from the ‘intruders.’ You picked her up and transported her to the counter, keeping her far away as possible from the other cats.
“Y/N, can you help me?”
You headed to the direction of the bathroom and found him standing like a kicked puppy. “What is it?”
“I need help taking my clothes off.”
“WHAT?” You were not going to strip him naked.
He laughed hard, holding his stomach. “Chill I was joking. At least for the bottoms. Can you help me take off my shirt?”
You felt your cheeks heat up, bashful at the request. Well this was what he meant when he said he needed help, you thought.
You moved to stand in front of him. Your fingers hesitated to touch his shirt and Ten watched you with an entertained expression. Taking a deep breath which you smelled your favourite body wash coming from him, you grasped the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled it upward. You weren’t trying to look at his abs knowing it was going to freak you out. But when your eyes landed on his six-pack abs, you yelped and accidentally tugged on his injured arm.
“Ow!”
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”
He chuckled. “Calm down Y/N. My abs aren’t gonna come to life and bite you. I think you should pull the sleeve out of my arm first and then pull it up.”
You did as he said and eventually got him free of his top. So now you were standing in front of a shirtless Ten, his abs staring at you, your eyes avoiding him, and you felt like your cheeks were on fire.
“It’ll be easier to wear a sleeveless shirt... or no shirt at all. Your reactions are so cute to watch,” he cooed.
“Have some manners at least for Sakura.”
- ❀ -
Before you left for work the next morning, Sakura had surprisingly warmed up to Ten. That was good news because she continued hissing at her new housemates. Having at least one soul at home who she wasn’t afraid of would bring her relief. Louis and Leon didn’t give her much attention and minded their own business.
At work, it felt weird to not have Ten next to you even though he was living at your place. The office environment felt different without him just as it felt different when he first joined the company. You used to be irritated of having him as your work buddy, and it was funny that you recently liked having him around, especially when work got stressful. He’d always add humour to every situation and your colleagues loved him for it, motivating them to work with a calmer mind.
Your colleagues asked you about him and when you filled them in on what happened, you wondered what was going on at home without you. You pulled out your phone and went on the security camera app. A hand flew to your mouth before you could scream.
“What is it, Y/N?” Sally asked and appeared behind you, looking at your screen. “Oh my goodness. This is...”
“What what what?” Mina ran up, followed by Joshua.
“Woah,” he breathed out, upon seeing a shirtless Ten lazing around in the living room.
You should have expected it from his words the previous night. Ten was playing with Sakura and your heart was far from okay seeing the two kittens you had a soft spot for being friendly with one another.
“So did the date happen with Ten yet?” Mina asked.
You nodded. “Yeah it did. We went to the mall.”
“Ooo~ How did it go?” Joshua asked.
“Of course it had to have gone well enough for Ten to be living with Y/N,” Sally winked in your way.
Sally was right in the sense that the date went well. Even though you weren’t a fan of Ten back when the date happened, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the date itself wasn’t fun. It was fun going to the different shops to check out cool outfits that looked jaw-dropping good on Ten, and buy some new toys for the cats. You both went to a Japanese restaurant and had sushi for lunch. The wasabi that was provided with the meal made you think back to the wasabi chocolate that Ten ate to win a date with you.
How did it taste like, you thought.
- ❀ -
One day, a meeting in the morning had bad news broken to your team. The deadline for a particular project was the next day, which meant that your entire team had to work overtime to complete it. You texted Ten of the news and he replied saying to not worry about him or the cats. You felt bad that he was going to have to handled everything on his own with his injured arm and an additional cat on top of his. Even though it was a matter of few seconds to check the security camera and see if everything was all right, your stress kept your brain preoccupied with the urgent assignment at hand and not check on the situation at home.
When you arrived home after eleven at night, you were greeted by three cats waiting for you behind the door. Your tired brain noticed that Sakura wasn’t hissing at Louis and Leon, meaning that she had finally warmed up to her new friends.
“Oh my goodness... Ten! Did you see Sakura-” You went speechless upon your entry into the living room.
Ten stood smiling at you with a canvas sitting on an easel behind him. The canvas was a painting of what looked like flowers and vines in the background that surrounded... your face?
“How did you... your arm?” You were impressed that Ten had painted it with his non-dominant hand.
“Being in here all day, I tried painting with my free hand. I’m sorry if it didn’t turn out good.” He bit his lip nervously.
You were dumbfounded. “Are you kidding me? This is so cool! It’s literally flawless. But what is this supposed to be?”
He smiled genuinely at you. “It’s a painting of you blooming around plants. There’s something I want to confess...” he trailed off nervously scratching his head.
Your heart beated faster, hoping that it was something good that he wanted to confess after showing the painting of you.
“I really like you, Y/N. I know I’m not in your good books, but I promise to be one from now on. So if you’re willing to give me a chance, will you let me be your boyfriend?” he asked with a hopeful expression.
You blinked, not believing your ears that Ten liked you back. “You seriously like me?”
He chuckled anxiously. “Yeah. I did ever since the first time I saw you again at work.”
Woah. “So that’s why you wanted to date me,” you breathed out.
He nodded. You grew silent and so he raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to confess back?”
“What?”
“I know you like me too.” His infamous smirk made a comeback. “It’s so obvious and written all over your face every day.”
“Ten?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
“I see you’re not denying it.”
You pursed your lips but failed to stop the smile from spilling onto your face. “Okay you win. I like you too.” You were ecstatic that you were not only going to live a successful life, but a satisfied one as well.
“Good, because there’s another surprise for you in the kitchen,” he stated.
You blinked at him. “What?”
“You’ll see,” he smiled innocently.
Walking into the kitchen, you found what Ten was talking about. You brought the heart shaped box wrapped with red gift wrap to the living room, excitedly unwrapping it and opening the box in front of him.
The contents of the box being heart shaped chocolates.
“Awe, this is so cute.” You took a bite without any hesitancy and your face scrunched up miserably.
Wasabi.
Ten’s laughter resonated off the walls of your apartment as you dropped the box on the coffee table and sprinted to the kitchen, spitting it into the trash. You stormed back to Ten and crossed your arms angrily.
“You literally promised!” you yelled.
“Yeah I did. But I never said that these chocolates were for you to eat.”
“You said it was a surprise for me,” you deadpanned.
“Yeah but your surprise is this.” He picked up a piece and popped it in his mouth, chewing it as if there was no spicy filling inside it. Once he swallowed it all, he opened his mouth for proof. You were confused as to why he willingly ate the wasabi chocolate. Though you did slightly swoon over how sexy he looked when he ate the bomb so effortlessly. He closed his mouth and grinned at you.
“You owe me another date.”
#nct#wayv#chittaphon leechaiyapornkul#chittaphon fluff#chittaphon x reader#nct ten#wayv ten#nct x reader#nct fanfic#nct fanfiction#charm
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to begin with, take warning (1/3)
[read on ao3]
1 | 2 | 3
Dick watched Damian physically try to not show his nerves on his face for a full ten minutes—with the success of a trained actor and the failure of a nervous fourteen-year-old playing it off to his older brother—when he caved. They had just driven past the Welcome to Gotham! billboard with “u sure?” and “go back to metropolis cuck!!!” graffitied in looping, hot pink script on the side. It’d be another twenty-five minutes of traffic before they made it to central downtown, and Dick could only stand so much of not-twitchy, not-nervous, I’m-above-this Damian before he burst into laughter and caused some problems.
So he said, “It’s okay to be nervous.”
And from the passenger side, feet up on the dash, looking at his phone, Damian snapped, “I’m not nervous! What is there to be nervous about? It’s an American high school. Big deal. Last week, I stopped a planet-wide catastrophe that would have killed billions in another galaxy, and every night, unless you don’t know, we fight actual monsters and supervillains who actively try to kill us. Some have even succeeded. This is nothing.”
“Yeah,” said Dick, “maybe don’t mention all that on the first day.”
“I know that.”
“And I think you mean ‘my friends and I went to space and stopped a war.’ You know you have to give them credit, too.”
“They’re not my friends,” said Damian. “I work with them. Father isn’t friends with every member of the Justice League, yet he’s worked with near every one of them on League missions. They are my colleagues.”
“So what you’re saying is that you are organizing and leading team missions?” Dick could not keep the amusement out of his voice. “What happened to ‘Teams are unnecessary and a waste of time’? What about the Titans? I know they invited you back.”
“Timothy leads the Titans,” said Damian. “And there’s no room for two Robins on the same team.”
“Mm, don’t know about that, but I also know neither of you would play nice long enough to really try. So no team, okay,” Dick agreed, “and you just happen to be having adventures with other underaged heroes of no relation to you on a periodic basis. And they’re not your friends.”
Damian blinked away from his phone—success!—and scowled. “I do not get your obsession with making friends, Richard,” he said.
Dick splayed his hands on the steering wheel. “I’m glad to see you hanging out with kids your own age, is all. It’s good for you.”
Damian snorted and looked out the window. Gotham’s littered streets and the growing mob of early-morning commuters blurred gray in the smog. In tones of great solemnity he said, “That’s what this whole thing is about, isn’t it? I am going to school to learn how to maintain a secret identity and cultivate a normal public persona. I will be surrounded by kids my own age, and I will be sure to make connections that I will treasure for the rest of my life. These next four years will be the happiest of my life, I know it.”
Dick laughed, and Damian smirked.
“Alright, smartass, I get it. You’re Damian Wayne, haver of too many titles and not leader of any teams, and you’re not nervous about going to high school. I believe you.”
They stopped at a light. Gotham Academy was a few blocks ahead. If they walked, they could be there in ten minutes. Driving as they were in the morning congestion, it would take at least fifteen. Dick didn’t mind. He hummed to himself, waiting. Damian went back to his phone. The light turned green. Dick eased his foot off the brake. They advanced slowly and made it to the front of the line of cars, when the light blinked yellow, then red, and they stopped again.
Damian said, “Father says you were a good student. Well-liked. Studious. Only Robin’s duties caused problems.”
“Bruce said that?” Dick rolled his eyes. “Of course, he did. School was fine,” he said, “though I was mostly focused on being Robin and then the Titans at the time. It was nice, I think. It seems so long ago. But it was hard to have a life there when the most important parts of my life were somewhere else.”
“Wait, Grayson,” Damian said, gleefully, “were you unpopular?”
Dick chuckled, and the light turned green again. “I don’t know what you mean, Dames. I didn’t have that much trouble, and I had a good group of friends. But sometimes I thought it was all a waste of time, time I should’ve spent being Robin. It wasn’t easy hiding parts of myself from my classmates. Keeping the secret meant I couldn’t really be myself or talk to anyone about anything other than school.”
“Until the Titans,” said Damian.
“Until the Titans,” agreed Dick. He glanced at Damian, still with his marginally tense shoulders. “If it counts for anything,” he said, “I don’t think it was a waste of time now. I’m glad I went. I think this is a good thing.”
“Tt,” Damian tutted, but his look was speculative.
“I won’t lie to you and say you will love school. But give it a chance. You might end up liking it.”
“Ever the optimist.”
Dick pulled up into the line of cars for day student drop-off. Gotham Academy stretched across the block, its front tower looming darkly over them in the morning fog. Teenagers in uniform and cheery-looking adults were wandering about, huddling in groups or directing the flow of foot traffic to the entrance and around the side of the façade.
“Got your schedule? Know where you’re going?” Dick asked.
Damian glowered at him.
Dick chuckled. “Right, right, ‘course you do. So I’ll pick you up at four o’clock, okay?”
“And not a minute later,” threatened Damian. And then he set his shoulders, got out of the car, slammed the door, and marched away like he was going into battle.
Dick couldn’t help himself. As he pulled away, he rolled down the window and shouted, “Have a great day at school, Damian! Love ya!”
Without turning around, Damian flipped him the bird.
A whistle blew, and in the rear view Dick saw an upset-looking woman, probably an administrator, point at Damian and loudly scold, “Young man!”
Dick winced, sympathetic yet unrepentant, and merged back into traffic.
Whoops.
•
Yanez knew this would happen, but she had thought it would be at least until midday. Homeroom hadn’t even started. She was busy alternating between threatening her teachers to smile and look happy to be here and smiling half-encouragingly, half-threateningly at students and shepherding them away from their hormonal clusters, when Headmaster Hammer cut a line through the crowd and headed straight to her. A sour-faced Damian Wayne kept pace behind him.
“Good morning,” she greeted, raising an eyebrow, and silently prayed for patience. “Can I help you?”
“Principal Yanez,” said Hammer. He motioned Damian in front of him. “Your student is in need of a reminder of our disciplinary code of conduct.”
Yanez did not miss the emphasis on your. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Hammer was still smarting over his demotion from Grand Headmaster of Gotham Academy, with the full powers that entailed, to “Grand Headmaster” of Gotham Academy, a purely honorary title that delegated tasks to the grammar, middle, and upper level administration that Gotham Academy had been divided into. She ignored him and looked down at the dark-haired boy in front of her. He glared back, defiant.
Ah. One of those.
“Damian Wayne, right?” she asked. “Isn’t it too early to be getting in trouble on the first day of school?”
“That depends on your definition of trouble, I suppose,” Damian said. To her surprise, he had the barest hint of an accent. British, maybe. He stuck out his hand. “You must be Samantha Yanez, the Head Principal for grades nine through twelve.”
Bemused, Yanez shook his hand. “That’s me.”
“I can only hope you are better than your predecessor,” said Damian. He glanced at Hammer and managed to make it seem like he was looking down his nose at him, despite being a full foot shorter. “He left much to be desired.”
“Note that down, Principal. Another perfect example of abhorrent and disrespectful student behavior,” said Hammer.
Yanez frowned. “What happened? Perhaps we should take this in my office.”
Already Yanez could see the curious bubble of students starting to form, talking behind their hands or blatantly recording on their phones.
“Certainly,” said Hammer. “It will help expedite the expulsion process.”
“That remains to be seen, Headmaster,” said Yanez.
She led them back to her office, past the crowds of mingling students and through the arching stone hallway that had been commandeered for the clerical staff. She took a seat behind her desk and indicated for them to sit. She tried not to be too annoyed when Hammer went instead to stand behind her, looming over like a gnarled skeleton.
“Okay,” she said. “Damian. Why don’t you explain to me why Headmaster Hammer has brought you in here? He’s threatening expulsion, but I only reserve that option for the most extreme of cases. Think this merits that?”
“Hardly,” scoffed Damian. “My brother was dropping me off and I flipped him off.”
“You—you flipped him off? You put your middle finger up at him?”
“Yes.”
Yanez barely resisted the urge to laugh and glanced at Hammer. His expression was thunderous. She looked back at Damian and waited, but he did not elaborate. “Why did you flip him off?” she asked.
“He is an embarrassment to me.”
“All brothers are embarrassing to their siblings, especially younger ones. Is there more?”
“No.”
“He has treated every administrator that tried to correct his behavior with rancor and disrespect,” said Hammer.
“Hrm.” Yanez steepled her fingers together. “Headmaster Hammer, could Damian and I have the room? I’ll take care of this. I’m sure you are very busy, and I know Principal Trammer could use the help with the elementary kids.”
Hammer scowled—Yanez knew he hated dealing with the primary school kids—but did not argue and took his leave.
When he was gone, Yanez took a moment to study the young boy in front of her. Petulant and angry, dark-haired, brown-skinned, and light-eyed, something tense and haughty in his shoulders—he looked every bit like any of the troubled kids Yanez had taught over her decades-long career. And yet nothing like them at all. There was something different in the set of his chin, the sharpness of his gaze, his crossed arms, like he was looking for danger and ready to meet it.
“Do you want to be here, Damian?” she asked.
Damian’s mouth twisted. “In this room, wasting my time? Not particularly.”
“Well, we can agree on that,” said Yanez. “But I meant here, Gotham Academy.”
Damian shrugged. “My family insists this will be an enriching opportunity.”
“They’re probably right. But I have looked at your records. You tested out of most of the core subjects, and your home-schooling portfolio is very impressive. Yet you are signed up for the standard ninth-grade honors track. When your Father and I met this summer to discuss the terms of your enrollment, he told me you insisted on it.”
Finally some of the animosity slipped from Damian’s face. He seemed intrigued. “You spoke with my father?”
“Only the once and very briefly,” said Yanez, “but yes. He said re-enrolling at Gotham Academy and coming back to school was your idea.”
Damian scowled.
“So I believe some part of you wants to be here, wants to be a student. Is that accurate?” she asked.
“I already regret it,” Damian muttered.
Yanez smiled. “Not the resounding yes I wanted to hear, but I’ll take it.” She reached into a side drawer and pulled out a quarter-sheet of yellow paper and scrawled down a few details. “If you want to be here, then being a student means abiding by some ground rules. Respect others, respect yourself, respect the school.”
“My respect is earned,” said Damian, “not freely given because of some archaic code of conduct.”
“Then you’re already miles ahead of most of the people in this building,” said Yanez. She handed him the slip of paper. “Respect is earned, yes, but you have to give people the chance to earn it in the first place. That means holding off on rude gestures and comments when it can be helped, which is most times. I am giving you two days of community lunch tutoring for flipping your brother off on school grounds and insulting the administrators.”
“Community lunch tutoring?” Damian echoed, scanning the slip.
“It is similar to detention, but instead you tutor other students and help them with their assignments. Report to the technology atrium during your lunchtime today and tomorrow.”
“Sounds dumb,” said Damian. “Why not just expel me?”
“For expressing your feelings and saying mean things to grown adults?” Yanez chuckled and shook her head. “Damian, this is a high school. If I expelled every bratty kid with no respect for authority and a penchant for dramatics, I would be out of a job. If you want to flip people off and bad-mouth teachers and administrators, that’s your business. It is not in my power to stop you, not fully anyway. You’re a smart kid. If you want to be a delinquent then at least be smart about it. If you get caught or the wrong adult overhears you, then you and I will be meeting more often, the repercussions will not be as merciful, and I will have to do a lot more paperwork. And Damian?”
She waited until she had his full attention, and he looked up, curious.
“I hate paperwork,” she said. “Don't let it come to that.” She waved a hand. “Now get out of my office. You’re late.”
next ->
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So I have a question about ILitW
Specifically, about Connor and MC
Okay, so it’s been established that MC is 18 when the events of ILitW kick off. Connor is canonically two years older, making him 20, reiterated when he’s 21 in the one year later epilogue. This means that back when he was in school, he would have been two grades above MC, so he would’ve been a junior when they were a freshman and a senior when they were a sophomore.
And then the story makes it seem like the whole main gang all kept going to the same schools as they grew up (rather than just ending up in the same hs after being in different schools prior to that), which makes sense, since the town isn’t huge, but we can assume that if Stacy went to the same schools as MC, so did Connor, because kids with more narrow age gaps (such as Connor and Stacy’s 2 years) tend to go to the same schools, because it makes more sense to enroll them in the same place, and since we know Connor went to the same high school as his younger sister, we can assume that the two of them were in the same elementary/middle school, which would’ve been the same one(s) MC attended.
So given that there were two years of overlap in which Connor and MC went to the same high school (and that they most likely attended the same school(s) prior to that), how come that encounter on the side of the road is their first time seeing each other in ten years?
Because hear me out, while it’s clear that it’s their first interaction in all that time, they still would’ve seen each other in the halls for at least two years (because I highly doubt that in all that time, they had never seen each other even once), and while I don’t expect two students with a whole grade between them to take much notice of each other, it doesn’t change the fact that their paths must have crossed, so then Connor would’ve said something earlier, wouldn’t he?
This guy was preoccupied with driving a car, saw MC from behind, made a split second of eye contact when he drove by them, and in that split second knew he’d seen them somewhere before and that made him stop, so I don’t get why that didn’t happen previously when they were in high school together. Especially since when the pieces clicked and Connor realized who MC was, it wasn’t “oh, that one kid I remember occasionally walking past in the hallways, whom I additionally know from way before that”, but rather “yeah, MC, my sister’s childhood friend from ten years ago”, so his memory immediately takes him to when he was a kid, rather than to more recent times, like when they went to the same hs up until two years before that reunion or all the years they would’ve gone to school together before that. Because yeah, right now I wouldn’t recognize someone who was two grades above or below me in high school if I never interacted with them during that time, but that’s not why Connor recognizes MC in the book, which is what makes no sense to me, because if he recognized them on the road, he would’ve recognized them at school too.
Going back to the part where he saw them from behind while driving, I am adding that my MC at least had the purple hair, which is a striking trait and one that clashes very obviously with what he would remember from when they were kids, while he notes that MC kept the same walk he remembered them having back then (impressive recall), so if his subconscious memory is so good that he can tell that this random stranger he locked eyes with for .1 second, who’s got different physical traits than he remembered, is someone he’s familiar with to the point where he stops the car to talk to them and try to figure out who they are, wouldn’t their reunion have taken place earlier?
And another thing is that if he and MC went to the same school(s) before that, he’d have vaguely seen MC grow up from afar, so he wouldn’t have had much trouble placing who they were, when in the book it wasn’t until Stacy was talking about the pep rally that he put the pieces together, which means that the whole mystery of how they knew each other wouldn’t happen because they’d have been seeing each other from a distance for years, which would’ve been enough to recognize each other all along. (Unless we’re saying that MC and Connor both changed so much during Connor’s first two years of hs while MC was still in middle school that they didn’t recognize each other at all when MC started hs, or that they changed so much in those two years after Connor graduated, but first of all, we saw MC a year before the events of ILitW in the Dan scene and they looked the exact same, so another year wouldn’t mean much difference, and also if they’d both changed so much, they wouldn’t have recognized each other on the road either.)
Oh, and this isn’t even going into the part where he said he was attracted to MC when he first saw them on the road, which would bring back the question of why then?
Anyway, I know I’ve been rambling and super redundant but this is something I’ve been wondering about for ages so yeah, I’m really curious as to what’s up. Maybe I missed something in the book? I dunno.
#I know this entire post could’ve been summed up in a one-sentence question but I needed my supporting arguments okay?#I’ve been trying to work out the logistics of this for ages but watch someone explain it all with a line from one (1) scene I missed#playchoices#it lives in the woods#choices ilitw#connor green
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{un veneno} january: captivate
pairing; javier peña x female reader
summary; the year is 1980. javier peña has been at the embassy in bogotá for a year when he meets you, fresh out of college and brand new to the country.
rating; nc-17
warnings; smoking, masturbation
word count; 2.4k
a/n; so this is a passion project of mine, it will be 12 chapters, full of fluff, smut, warm tropical nights, and later on, a lot of angst.
bonus; there’s a playlist for the series! check it out here on spotify or message me for apple music
un veneno masterlist
“Quero um–no, fuck–un paquete de cigarros?” you said to the shop attendant. Spanish was no easy task. It was a dumb decision to come here without any knowledge of the language, but you had assumed some university-level Portuguese would help. Apparently not, because the man behind the counter shot you a confused look as he pulled a pack from the shelves behind them. He understood, that was clear, but you didn’t know the words.
“Ella quiere unas Pielrojas porfa, con filtro,” said a voice behind you, “No esos malditos y caros Marlboros. Bueno, que sean dos y yo pago.”
“Señor Peña, ¿cómo vas?” the shopkeeper said, and you turned to look at this ‘Señor Peña.’
He was a bit taller than you, and more than a bit older. Tanned skin, tight pants, a pink shirt. A large pair of orange-tinted sunglasses masked his eyes.
“Muy bién, Roberto, ¿y cómo va tu esposa?” He said, and the shopkeeper laughed. You only caught a few words of the exchange and were unsure if you were getting your cigarettes.
You flew into Bogotá the day before and had just gotten settled at the hostel you’d be staying in for the next couple of weeks. It had been a solid three days since you’d had a smoke and you wanted to go to the park nearby and relax.
The man turned to you and began to speak with a rough but refreshingly familiar American accent, tinged with the light musicality of the Southern states, “I’m sorry ma’am for the interruption, but Roberto here was going to try to sell you the Marlboros, which are much to overpriced, and I couldn’t let a pretty little thing like you get ripped off like that.”
“Thank you? But I can handle myself,” you said.
“Obviously not, you sound like you’re confusing Portuguese for Spanish, which just won’t cut it here,” he said, turning to pay for the two boxes that Roberto placed on the counter.
He tossed you one pack, which you fumbled with, clutching it against your stomach to ensure it didn’t fall. He laughed.
“That right there’s a pack of Pielroja, it’s loosely packed, so I hope you don’t mind, but it’s cheaper, local, and ten times better,” he said.
“Thanks,” you said. As interesting as the guy was, you really wanted to leave for the park. Colombia wasn’t your first rodeo, but somehow every new country was exhausting between the 24th and 32nd hour marks.
“You’re welcome,” he said as you brushed by him and walked out the door.
Outside the shop, you paused to fish your lighter out of your bag.
“So what’s an American girl doing in Bogotá all alone?” The man was back, standing in front of you.
“You just don’t stop, do you?”
“Not really, no,” he grinned, leaning back against the building.
You opened the pack of cigarettes he bought you, lit one, and drew it to your lips.
“So, do you like it?” he was messing around with his own box and pulled out one. He held it out to you, silently asking for you to light it. You complied.
You weren’t sure if he was talking about cigarettes or Bogotá. “It’s nice. So far,” you said, exhaling smoke.
He laughed again, this time bringing a smile to your face. He had a nice laugh.
“You never answered me, what are you doing here?”
“Teaching English at an elementary school nearby, I start next week,” you said.
His eyebrows shot up, “How old are you? 20?”
“22.”
“What kind of 22-year-old wants to be a schoolteacher?” he said.
“Me, apparently,” you said, “But it’s not my career or anything. Graduated last May, I’ve been traveling and teaching English, got a gig here, whole school year, pays pretty well, I’m excited.”
“You’re crazy,” he said, “22, fresh out of college, your only experience out of the states was probably in Europe, and you’re gonna teach kids? In Colombia?”
“What’s wrong with a bit of crazy?” you said.
“What’s your name?” he asked, ignoring your question.
“Y/N.”
“Y/N,” he said. You liked how he said your name. “I’m Javier.”
“Nice to meet you,” you said, staring at him propped up against the building.
The top two buttons of his shirt were open, and a thin sheen of sweat lay over his chest and face. Something about the look with the broad mustache made him appear like he was stuck in ‘73. His smile was one of those that reached the eyes and spilled into those around him.
You exhaled carefully.
“So, what are you doing in Colombia?” you asked.
“I work for the American embassy,” he said. There was a pause as he waited for the impressed look on your face that never came.
“What is this then, a welcome package?” you asked, chuckling to yourself.
“It could be,” he pushed himself off the wall and took another drag, “But then again, you’re only 22.”
“What does that have to—oh.” You found yourself laughing again. Javier was the sort of guy that you’d probably slap in the face back in the USA. But here, with the cloud cover doing nothing to mask the heat and humidity, the smell of papaya and passion fruit wafting through the air, you were only amused.
“See you around, Y/N,” Javier said, and he walked down the sidewalk before turning a corner and disappearing.
Five days of getting to know hundreds of students in different classes during the first week of school, all while trying to develop lesson plans, left you lying in your hostel bed on a Friday night. You were alone in the room, the rest of the residents out partying, as per usual for a hostel in the middle of a city.
You would have loved to be out too, Colombian Rock and rum thrumming through your body, dancing with someone, going home with someone.
But you had spent too much energy this week and partying would have to wait. You had a year left in Bogotá, at least another 50 Friday nights. Lesson planning would let up once you got into a rhythm. And figured out a living situation.
One of the other teachers had offered her spare bedroom during February and a bit of March, but her daughter would be back in town after that, and you’d lose the space. The wait until you got your own space in February felt far away. March even further. But planning for that needed to happen sooner rather than later. The hostel bed was killing you, and you hated the drunk guys coming and going.
At least you knew you’d be alone for another hour. No one dared come back before midnight; if you were caught calling it an early night it was certain fodder for shame the next morning. At least, that was the way your roommates worked.
Still, to be safe, you closed the curtain, encapsulating yourself on your bed in the darkness. You closed your eyes and slipped one hand down your stomach, dipping under the waistband of your pants and into your underwear.
As your fingers brushed over your clit, you let out a small gasp, your free hand fisting into the sheets. The last time you had been touched was over a month ago, back during the cold December winter weather in Brussels. You worked your hand across your slit, telling yourself this had to be a one-time thing. You would go out, find a good hookup this week.
Your brain was overworking, shuddering in pleasure, and the man from last week flickered across your vision: Javier.
You imagined his chest, the open shirt leaving a trail right down his chest, glowing in the sun. You slipped a finger inside, gasping at the sensation.
He would probably take you to bed if you played your cards right. If you found him again. He seemed to have that kind of character. You remembered his last words to you, suggestive and sensual.
He was older, probably by a lot. You shouldn’t be thinking about him, but you wanted him to hold you in his arms, kiss your neck. You imagined how he’d taste, probably like cigarettes and whiskey.
The thought of his hands snaking down your waist, pulling you closer almost sent you over and you moved your fingers faster. His smile, snarky and self-obsessed as it was, had worked its way into your brain, and you wondered where he was now.
Did he remember you? Had he laid in bed like you were now, getting himself off to your name? And that image, flooding into your brain, as unrealistic as it was, caused you to almost scream out loud, your whole body spasming.
Finally relaxed, your body almost limp on the bed, you became aware of the layer of sweat that now covered your body, and made up your mind to take a shower. As soon as you recover. That was the best orgasm you had had in months. But where had those thoughts come from?
You had only seen Javier that one time, right outside the corner store, then tried and failed to shove him out of your mind. In the few minutes you had known him, you had decided he was an asshole who didn’t deserve your time, but the sort of asshole you could see yourself becoming good friends with.
If he was years younger, you could have imagined traveling with him, continuing your round-the-world travels with Javier would have been amazing. You had seen so many things during your six months in Europe and met so many people. Many of the backpackers at the youth hostels you stayed at traveled with others. Mostly, they were single, their companions just good fun and friendship for the journey.
You had long since imagined meeting someone on the road like they did, someone that would sweep you off your feet and set aside a year of their life to spend with you, hopping from country to country, odd job to odd job.
Javier’s shit-eating grin and verbal wit would stick in your mind long after you left Colombia. And here you were, getting off to him.
If he lived in Bogotá? Worked at the embassy, probably lived nearby? You’d probably see him again. And you’d have to look at him in the eye, the only thing running through your mind the memory of tonight.
You wanted to see him again. Wanted to have lunch and smoke with him. Wanted him to show you around. But after what you just did, you didn’t know if that was possible.
Sex was no stranger to you, the one night stands being a common figure in your life throughout college, but even you wouldn’t go for someone as old as him. You had standards. A guy his age was reserved for friendship. At least, that’s what you told yourself. Until now.
“God, I’m fucked,” you breathed out, sitting up and gathering your shower stuff before heading to the bathroom.
Javier had returned to the corner store every day for the past two weeks, hoping to catch a glimpse of you again. He was back today, 15:30, hopefully after school got out, he imagined, eyes scanning the store as he lingered by the refrigerators full of six-packs.
The bell rang as someone walked in and he looked up. You stood there, exhausted from a day of child-wrangling and his eyes lit up.
All you wanted was a bottle of something and a shitty candy bar. You were roaming the aisles, trying to settle between the foreign brands of chocolate when Javier approached.
“Y/N,” he said, causing you to startle as you looked up. A deep red blush began to blossom across your cheeks as you took him in. He was even better in person.
“Javier, what a coincidence, running into you here again,” that was a lie. You walked past four other stores just to come here, hoping he would be nearby.
“Yeah... a coincidence,” he said, reaching down to grab a candy bar. “This one’s the best, that is, if you like milk chocolate.”
“So two weeks later and all you’re still giving me local product recommendations? You should write for the newspaper,” you laughed, signaling you didn’t want the chocolate when he tried to hand it to you, “But you’d be wrong, because the only good chocolate is dark chocolate.”
“You like that bitter shit?” he said, still holding the bar in his hands.
You reached down for something that said 85% and figured that would be dark enough for you.
“Gross,” he said.
“You can leave,” you said.
You didn’t want him to leave.
“Do you want to go for a coffee?” he said. “You look exhausted.”
“Real good way to charm a woman,” it should have stung, but when Javier said it, you smiled.
“That, um, sounded bad, didn’t it?” his brow was furrowed and his smile was gone.
“Yeah, it did,” you kept smiling, hoping he would light up again. You wanted his excited face burnt into your memory. “So, what’s the best café around here?”
“Are you some kind of heathen who takes their coffee with no sugar or milk to go with your raw chocolate beans? If so, I have no suggestions because that’s disgusting.”
You laughed, loudly, with your whole body, “Unfortunately for you, I do. But if you give me a good café con leche I’ll drink it.”
“Good, because you’re not going to get away with that bar of chocolate and coffee with no add-ins.”
“I worry you have a sweet tooth and can’t appreciate good flavors,” you said. It was so easy to talk with him. He knew exactly what to say to keep you smiling as he leaned against the display like he owned the place.
“I don’t have a sweet tooth, you just like your food to hurt you,” he said, “Let’s go, there’s a good café down the block.”
He reached out to grab your hand and you almost lost it. His palm was soft and his grip firm.
Javier led you to the register where he flung his arm around your shoulders, “Roberto, te acuerdas de Y/N, ¿verdad?”
Roberto chuckled, ringing up your two chocolate bars, “Por supuesto.”
He leaned towards you and said, in broken English, “Careful. Señor Peña is crazy man, yes? He is flirt but he doesn’t mean it.”
Javier laughed, “No somos una pareja, Roberto, somos amigos. Solo amigos.”
You understood that part. You were friends. You grinned. After just ten minutes of talking over two weeks, Javier thought of you as a friend.
next: february: blossom
taglist; @pascalisthepunkest @turquiosenights (tumblr isn’t letting me tag so idk if these show up in your notifs)
#javier peña#javier pena#javier peña x reader#javier pena x reader#un veneno fic#camila writes#rated e#under 5#reader#fluff#pedro fics#narcos fics#javi x reader
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*clears throat* hi, is this thing working? i’m candy, broadcasting from aest and i go by she/her pronouns. may i present my baby atticus! i did not intent for this introduction to get as long as it has, so i am sooOOOooo sorry about that. in short, this is my kindergarten teacher that takes a while to warm up to people but likes to talk ... take that as you will. he likes to have fun when he’s in the mood and loves his job and will do anything for his loved ones. give this a like if you’d like to plot and i’ll head to your dms, or hmu either or! stats, wanted connections and all that jazz to come i’m just to excited. ENJOY :’) @mapleviewstarters
full name : atticus james maitland
nickname(s) : ace , atta , atti ( rare )
birth date : october twenty-seven
zodiac sign : scorpio
age : twenty-seven
gender : cis male
pronouns : he / him / his
sexual orientation : bisexual
romantic orientation : biromantic
education : high school diploma , bachelor of arts in elementary education , teaching license/certification
tw: infidelity.
BACKGROUND
born three years after his older brother, atticus was brought into what seemed to be a happy, stereotypical “ everyday ” family - yet by the age of two karissa and heath maitland’s mariage was anything but a joyous one. to the outside world the maitland family were the one’s that would be there whenever someone needed a helping hand, would be the first to put their hand up for community activities, be seen smiling and have no qualms. behind closed doors, however, that was not the case.
atticus grew up with his mother and father arguing profusely or even barely speaking to each other on a regular basis. there were times that they got along, of course, but atticus always looks back on his childhood filled with tension. like he was walking on eggshells. the most he had fun with his family was when they went on holidays or were out and about in general, simply because his parents would put on an act. dare anybody in mapleview know what was going on between them.
when atticus began to find his voice, he began to step in when his parents would argue; telling them to stop though it would only get him so far. sometimes they wouldn’t hear him when he was very young, or they would demand him go to his room and they were having an adult discussion. as time went on, karissa would back down and she, atticus and his brother would often go for a walk together. they would often talk about everything about anything, would find something to do together and she soon became his favourite person.
when it came to school, he went through phases of loving it, then hating it and then coming around to loving it again. this didn’t change much all the way through to the end of high school. there was a lot he liked about school as he got older - mainly because he could get out of the house and talk to people, find new things to do and explore new interests. some interests his parents wouldn’t be too happy to hear about, like getting his first stick and poke tattoo at sixteen in his best friends basement.
around the start of his final year of high school, a fight between karissa and heath broke out as per normal in the early hours of the morning. it had woken atticus from the slamming of doors and screaming between them, but what took him from his bed was the sound of their family car leaving the driveway. he doesn’t ever remember seeing his mother cry before that point, and seeing her sitting on the back porch in the moonlight trying to muffle her crying broke him.
turns out heath had been had been having an affair, and it wasn’t the first time he had cheated on karissa. it had happened when he was seven, though they had agreed to work through it for the two boys - much to atticus’ disgust. he sat with her that night, and although she didn’t want to to begin with, she let him comfort her and she talked about it all to him.
by the end of his senior year, his parents had were living in separate houses and filling for divorce. and atticus was all for it as much as it hurt him. he knew it would be for the best. they couldn’t stay together any longer and the fact they stayed together for him and his brother riddled him with guilt. not only did he feel guilty for being the reason they stayed together, he also felt bad for how people would’ve seen their family after the divorce was finalized.
COLLEGE/TEACHING
atticus went straight to college, not wanting to muck around and waste time in getting his degree. he studies hard, but that didn’t mean he didn’t party hard. one third of college was spent drunk/hungover, another was spent with his head in the books and the other was on practical work placement. the minute he stepped into a classroom on his student teaching placement he knew there was no turning back ( not that the debt would be a deterrence ).
he graduated at twenty-two, spent one school year as a teaching assistant at the elementary school and applied the year of his twenty-forth birthday. luckily, he got the job as a kindergarten teacher. this will be his third year teaching kindergarten.
atticus has always loved children and has always been interested in the idea of teaching, specifically younger children. he loves always learning new things, which teaching can certainly do for him, but mainly he wants to be able to impact the lives of children in a positive way and make a difference. children are the leaders of tomorrow and if he can make that difference, make a child smile or make coming to school fun, then he feels like he’s accomplished something in his life. he knows that he remembers his teachers that made him feel like he could do anything and be who he wanted to be. not only that, but he certainly needed a positive adult figure at that age when home life was filled with such tension.
PRESENT
at the moment, atticus is renting a nice little house in chestnut drive while he saves for his own house. he is very comfortable with who he is and whoever thinks otherwise is free to their opinion, but he doesn’t care for it.
he is not on speaking turns with his father, and hasn’t been since mid college. he would rather chew off his own arm than speak to him. atticus is well aware he is holding a gruge, but he doesn’t care; maybe in ten years time he’ll loosen up but not any time soon. thankfully, heath moved out of town so not speaking to him makes it easier.
this is all i have for now but let’s build on this by plots!
PERSONALITY
atticus can have a lot of fun, you just have to get him in the right mood. he won’t go out for night on the town if he’s feeling low because he’s just going to have a depressive come down and how self destructive he can be. he had his reckless days, and he’s more aware of the consequences his actions cause.
with that being said! he’s very social, loves to talk as long as it’s not about himself too deeply. will be that guy that won’t leave you sitting alone and will engage in conversation with anyone about almost anything.
his moods can be very up and down, leaving him to be very unpredictable. one week he’ll be very happy and cheery and the next he’ll be extra reserved, keeping to himself and his thoughts.
atticus keeps people at a distance and will be very suspicious of those he doesn’t know. there are times he honestly wishes he could be a mind reader because it would put him at ease ( at least a little bit ). it takes him a long time to warm up to people and when he does, he forms very deep connections with them. he has a lot of people he knows, but few close friends.
touching on that, he will do just about anything for those he cares for. he is vengeful, cunning and will bide his time to take out his payback if need be if someone hurts his loved ones. he will always keep his job in the back of his mind, and if he needs to, he will get someone to do his dirty work for him ( don’t come at me for it ). when he cares for you, you’re basically like family to him.
he is a very caring, loving gentleman and affectionate deep in his core. whenever a child comes in upset, after making sure the class is working away in groups, he’ll talk to them. or whenever they’re hurt, he’s the first one they call over. in his personal life, atticus is definitely the person you can ring in the middle of the night if you need help and he will be there one he’s made a quick instant coffee for the both of you.
very very passionate about his job! atticus stays up late some nights looking for new work ideas, stays back late to hang up artwork, is in early more often than not to make sure the classroom is set up just right.
he loves to express himself through his clothes; wearing colours and patterns and flared pants. much like harry but tries not to go too over the top for the workplace. catch him after work showing off those tattoos ( that i will write about on his stats page ) with low cut tops and patterned vests, or silk pants, ruffled blouses. that is where his money goes.
#mapleviewintro#this was so choppy i know it but my eyes are burning#this is what i have so far but let's plot#god i hope this was ok tell me if i'm missing anything
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𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊, 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎, 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚖𝚊
𝘱𝘵. 1 - 𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢
𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀��𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲
𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - kozume kenma x oc
𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 - childhood friends to lovers
𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤 - kozume kenma and ikeda sora have always known that they're different. the question is, what will they do about it? (aka the author's take on aromantic kenma in a queerplatonic relationship with a grayromantic oc)
𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 - 2k words (in an afternoon, i am way too proud of myself)
𝘵𝘸 - mentions of suic!de, implied d3pression, internalized hom0phobia
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
philia (n.) - deep fondness for family or friends
Kozume Kenma is a (naturally) quiet child. Ikeda Sora notices this the first they meet, when their mothers drag them to the park for a playdate after hitting if off the day before at the supermarket. (Their mothers, of course, Kenma hid behind his mother's legs the entire time.) Sora disregards this (of course) and grins at him, beaming as bright as the sun. Kenma squints at her, as if it hurts to look directly into her visage. "Hey! My name's Sora, but everyone calls me So-chan!" she introduces.
Kenma looks away. Why is this girl so loud and enthusiastic? Even Kuroo wasn't that bad when they first met... "I'm Kenma..." he mutters. Sora's smile becomes wider, if that's possible. "Nice to meet you, Kencchi!" Kencchi? Where did that come from?
Sora grabs Kenma's arm, determined on dragging him to play on the monkey bars. "I'm in second grade - my teacher, Tsukamoto-sensei, is super nice! The other day me and my friend Hana made a flower out of paper, and..." she babbles on. Kenma lets her lead him around, offering no resistance, but no affirmation either. That doesn't seem to matter to the bright and bubbly girl, who continues chattering on, even without any response from Kenma.
Still, at the end of the day, Kenma knows her teddy bear's name, what she had for breakfast for the past three days, and that she thinks that girls who think boys are cute are weird.
The next time they meet, two weeks later (their mothers hadn't had time to organize another playdate), it's on accident. Kuroo, dropping by that morning, had forced Kenma out of the house (with Kozume-san's permission) to go to the local kid's volleyball club with him. Since they were all still in elementary, the teams had yet to be split by gender, and Kenma could hear the raucous screams of both high- and low(er)-pitched voices all the way from around the corner from the gym. He shrunk in on himself. "Kuro, do we really have to go?" he asks softly.
Kuroo laughs raucously and ruffles his younger friend's hair. "C'mon Kenma, I know you liked it the last time we were here!" Kenma grumbles and drags his feet, but still allows Kuroo to lead him into the air-conditioned gym. At least it's cooler than outside...
There, they find the club already in session - getting Kenma out of the house requires at least 30 minutes of wheedling and begging - and Kuroo is immediately rushed by a multitude of other children. (It's fine, it's normal - Kuroo's always been popular.) Kenma stands to the side, content on letting his friend catch up with his other friends. Suddenly, Kenma's vision is filled with dark hair, dark eyes, and a smile that is still too bright.
"Kencchi! Nice to see you hear!" The girl from the park - Sora, he thinks - chirps. "Do you play volleyball too?" Kenma nods shyly. "That's so cool! What position do you want to play when you grow up? I want to be a middle blocker! They're so cool! Like," Sora raises her arms in a blocking position that is actually quite accurate for someone her age, "bam! shutout!" she exclaims.
Kenma shrugs. "I guess I'm going to play setter." Sora looks at him quizzically, as if she can't comprehend why he isn't as enthusiastic as her. Then, her expression shifts back to pure sunshine. "That's so cool!" she repeats. "Can you set for me?" she asks excitedly. "Oh. Uh, sure." Kenma replies. To be honest, he's not certain why he agrees. He's never been the type to take on extra work, and he certainly isn't one to attempt to "make friends" (he's pretty sure this counts as friendmaking). But somehow, he finds it almost impossible to say no to Sora.
They see each other every week at volleyball club. Soon, weeks become months, months become years, and before Kenma notices, Sora has become one of his closest friends.
They've known each other for two months when Sora starts popping by his house at random hours (they live on the same street, apparently) with Kuroo so that they can drag him out to the riverbank and practice volleyball for hours.
They've been "friends" (Sora enthusiastically declared that they now fit the label during their second volleyball practice together) for five months when Kenma realizes that he's truly comfortable around her.
And with the tides of time, there is also inevitably change. For one, Kuroo graduates, leaving his two childhood best friends behind (only for a year, he insists). For another, Kenma discovers games, and there's no going back from there. Many other "friends" would have left him at this point - he can no longer be seen without his PSP, and it's ten times harder to get him outside to spend time with them.
Sora never minds, however. She knows Kenma like the back of her hand now (and Kuroo too, though to a lesser extent) and she also knows that he does deeply care for her. So, every day at 8PM like clockwork, Kuroo and Sora show up at Kenma's house with snacks in hand, ready to play Mario Kart or whatever Kenma has queued up on his gaming console for a few hours. During this time, it's mostly Kuroo and Sora's voices filling the air, but if you were to ask Kenma about what they had been talking about, he would have been able to give a summary point-by-point.
They also continue to play volleyball - Kuroo and Sora have become formidable blockers, and Sora is now strong enough that she can drag both Kuroo and Kenma one-handed. Kenma has also begrudgingly "leveled up", and he's the starting setter for their elementary school.
It's always been and always will be Kuroo, Kenma and Sora against the world. At least, that was what they believed as children.
Middle school brings a slew of changes. The three friends are back together, though they only meet together (all three of them) during lunch, and increasingly less as Sora becomes occupied with homework and Kuroo with his burgeoning popularity. Kenma's okay with this, he tells himself. But the small ache in his chest says otherwise.
They're still playing volleyball, of course. There have always been three things constant in Kenma and Sora's life: each other, Kuroo, and volleyball. Sora's talent is recognized almost immediately, and she starts having to go to more and more after-school practices as they whip her into shape for middle school tournaments. It's a little different for Kuroo and Kenma. While Kuroo's easy-to-get-along-with demeanor made him many friends on the team, the fact that there were just better people than him for the starting lineup frustrated him to no end. Kenma, on the other hand, was picked on just for being quiet and always absorbed in his games.
Of course, Sora and Kuroo find out eventually, and the two boys who were giving him trouble left school that day with quite a few bruises and a busted lip. ("Violence isn't the answer, Kuro." Kenma admonishes, his worry for his two best friends drawing him out of his usual shell. "But it's usually the question!" pipes up Sora cheekily. "Besides, Tetsu didn't even throw that many punches! I did most of the fighting!" Sora crows proudly, holding up her bruised knuckles as proof. Kenma sighs and hands her an ice pack, but inside he's secretly thankful that he has friends like these two. They may drift apart physically, but he knows that they'll always have his back.)
With middle school, of course, also comes the inevitable "Are you two, you know, together?" questions. Sora has always been bad at suppressing her need to show affection, and Kenma had gotten used to it over the years, so they both think nothing of Kenma riding on Sora's back when he's tired from volleyball practice (even though she just wrapped up her own practice, Sora is never too tired to carry him around) or Kenma giving Sora his chicken breast because he knows that that's her favorite.
They always deny it calmly, but the rumors are still there. And Kenma supposes that he can't blame them. Sora has never bothered to hide their friendship, and Kenma has never pushed her away. He wonders what liking a girl feels like. To be honest, Kenma is pretty sure that he's never had a crush. Yes, he cares for Sora very deeply and would give up his PSP for her (never tell her he would do so, she would never let him live it down), but his heart doesn't go doki-doki when she walks past and he never blushes when she throws an arm around his shoulders when they're walking down the sidewalk together.
Whatever, he thinks. They're still in middle school. Actual romance is so far off it might as well be the moon.
In their last year of middle school, Sora's father walks out on her mother, leaving them for another woman. The next day, Sora's mother (Ikeda-san always made him apple pie on his birthdays, Ikeda-san always looked at her husband like she wanted more, Ikeda-san, Ikeda-san, Ikeda-san.) is found unmoving and blue in their bathtub, water sloshing over the side as Sora sobs next to her, empty pill bottle in the sink.
Sora moves in with her older cousin, Ikeda Hitomi, three blocks away. Her father signed over custody without even a word of protest. Kenma finds it hard to resist the urge to call Kuroo and go rip into the scumbag. It's only three blocks, but somehow Kenma feels like it's a thousand kilometers.
Sora becomes cold and unreachable. She no longer comes for their 8PM gaming sessions. She still sits next to Kenma at school, but there are no more funny notes with caricatures of their duck-voiced science teacher, no more warm smiles, no more nudges to his shoulder when Akame smiles shyly at Haruto.
Sora has always been the one reaching out throughout their friendship, the one who kept the fire stoked, the one who started the conversation. When she withdraws, Kenma finds himself reaching across the gap, looking to fill the sudden empty space.
He shows up every day at 7PM with a hot container of food from his mother because he knows that Hitomi works late to provide for both of them (Sora's cousin is nice, but all of them know that it's too much for a 23-year-old waitress to be taking care of both herself and her baby cousin, but Hitomi will never give Sora up, because Hitomi isn't Sora's father, Hitomi loves Sora, Hitomi, even while physically absent, is always there for Sora, and that is why Kenma trusts her with Sora) and Sora can't cook to save her life.
He begins willingly putting down his games to play volleyball with her and Kuroo (it seems the only thing in life she still has passion for). He wakes up early every morning so that he can walk the extra 10 minutes to Sora's house so they can go to school together. He remembers to bring a scarf for her on winter days, because Sora has seemingly forgotten how to take care of herself.
It hurts Kenma's heart to see his friend like this, a shell of herself.
Eventually, it does get better. Sora doesn't go back to the bright and bubbly girl she used to be, but she does start talking more. She even begins giving small smiles whenever Kuroo cracks an especially horrible joke and Kenma shuts him down. Kenma knows that she'll never quite be the same, but he's happy to have at least part of his best friend back.
He knows that high school will be an entirely different beast, but Kenma's hopeful that it will be alright, with Sora and Kuroo by his side.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
© ʙᴇᴛʜᴇʏᴅᴏᴄʀɪᴍᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴇꜱ 2021 - ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ
#haikyuu!!#haikyu x oc#hq kenma#kenma kozume#hq fanfic#fanfic#queer platonic relationship#arospec#aro pride#aromanticism#character study
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𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖑𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖜 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖙 𝖍𝖎𝖘
𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜 𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖎𝖘 𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖆 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝖔𝖗 𝖆 𝖈𝖔𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖉.
𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋
𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖑𝖆𝖜 𝖎𝖘 𝖇𝖔𝖙𝖍.
𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖆 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑
𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙:
"𝖎𝖋 𝖎 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖐𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚,
𝖎𝖋 𝖎 𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖓."
𝖘𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖎𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖗.
full name: cyrus rousseau
nicknames: cy, lieutenant, ruoss, etc.
age: 36
date of birth: jun. 11
zodiac: gemini
gender: male
pronouns: he/him
sexuality: bisexual
physical
hair color: dark brown
eye color: hazel
height: 6′1″
weight: 180 lbs
personality
morality: lawful evil
positive traits: charming, inquisitive, intelligent, attentive, strong-willed
negative traits: restless, easily bored, moody, fickle, short-tempered,
job: manager of rousseau’s
skills: adaptable, strong, combat trained, artillery trained.
family
parents: valentina and louis rousseau.
siblings: blake and audrey rousseau.
niece: aria rousseau.
backstory and details - ＴＲＩＧＧＥＲ ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧ :
war, murder, violence
✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴ ✴
first born to louis rousseau and his young, model wife valentina, cyrus was another strapping heir to a line indebted to the o’sheas, albeit far behind others. a strong boy with a sturdy will and an even stronger mind, cyrus was a beloved child, doted on by his mother for his looks and encouraged by his father to be the best he could be in every aspect of his life as the second man in the rousseau family.
an o’shea general, their father wasn’t shy about bringing his children along when it was time to set the wrong things right. cyrus could recall on many occasions where his father returned to their car, knuckles bloody, stoic and firm with a word of advice and warning on what to look for in weaker men as he grew older.
always taught that nothing could hurt him unless he gave it license to, cyrus was rambunctious and foolhardy, always flooded with a charm and wit. paired with his keen instinct for sparring and ways of outsmarting those his senior, he had a knack for mischief from the start.
fear is a fickle thing in the eyes of a walsh general’s son; ever changing, always political and fluctuating in immediacy and relevancy. still, there was one fear that remained constant; losing those he loved.
more often than not it was a distant, almost irrelevant fear; one that had no place among conscious thought. at least until he gained two younger siblings, well into his life. after they came, he felt a need to step up and be there for them in a different way than parents ever could. he wanted to be the trusted confidant, the one they came to for help before they went to their parents; the reliable brother that loved them fiercely and with everything he had in him. cyrus cared for them beyond all others; no one matters to him half as much as they do.
moving through years in elementary and middle school, cyrus was popular, charming, well known and well liked, but could tip attitude at the drop of the hat. the moment he was provoked, his wrath came out and found the object of his rage. that indignation, the anger within him, and the willingness to hit first and worry later landed him in and out of detention and even one instance of juvenile arrest.
his mother, more often than not, let the discipline thereafter be dealt with by his father. she loved him, he knew, she just wasn’t the most tolerant woman of the inner workings of a child’s mind, especially one as privileged as her son was.
it seemed worthwhile to louis to enroll young cyrus into boxing classes; he needed discipline and anger management, maybe even to get his ass knocked to the ground every now and again to keep him humble. not only did his fortunes improve, but so did his ability to work past his issues with rage.
a stand out feature of his youth was taking note of his mother’s descent from being a mother with him, to a friend with his brother, and all but an acquaintance with his younger sister. he hated how passive she became, how lacking she was in her attitudes toward her children.
once in training, his studies soared, both academically and in boxing. high school couldn’t have been easier. he was popular as ever, a shining example of what one should be; respectful, protective, intelligent, and above all; engaging. everyone seemed to want him as a friend or a fuck, and cyrus saw nothing wrong with it.
on occasion, there were times he’d take it too far in the boxing ring, move too fiercely and endanger others training around him. cyrus found it far too easy to fight dirty. He liked the snap of bone beneath his knuckles, or the squelch of sweat as a body hit the octagon beneath him. chastised for his behavior and willingness to act out of line, cyrus knew the behavior had to cease. collecting outlets for his anger, he took the advice of his coach and started to write.
he wasn’t good at it, or particularly knowledgeable in the rules of prose, but writing was his therapy. it was the only sympathy he afforded himself to have, and soon the bookshelves in his bedrooms were heavily lined with journals filled cover to cover with simple-minded musings, thoughts, and reports of the days where he could barely tell sunrise from bedtime.
after high school graduation, cyrus decided he’d go the way of the navy. he wanted to make his parents and siblings proud; a noble son that learned the noble art of war. leaving them all behind would hurt, but it would be worth it in the long run. who better to protect his family than a man with all the skills of a trained, combat killing machine?
cyrus signed up when he was 18 and shipped off to basic not long after. nothing shaped his fears for the future quite like the fall of the world trade center in 2001. watching live from a tv in the cafeteria in his senior year of high school; he could recall the tension in the air; everyone in that room knew the wars they spent so much time learning about were now outside their very windows.
he was too tired, he had lived through and seen so much, and despite it all he looked forward to seeing his sister. when he was on his first tour overseas, he took a spare moment to reflect on his family and how much he really missed them. finally, he had time to call home and was soon after met with the news that their mother left. he hadn’t felt a true rage like that in all the months he’d been at war; his efforts were usually better spent.
after the start of the iraq war, cyrus was sent into active combat and shipped overseas to afghanistan. he was a part of two tours, the latter of which was cut short by the detonation of an ied. his left leg was shattered and though they were able to salvage the limb, it wasn’t without extensive surgery and the implantation of a steel rod. cyrus received a purple heart for his action in the service and was honorably discharged and left to return home as a decorated veteran.
by the time he returned to chicago, he had seen too much on his tours, fought and killed and his rage was tripled tenfold. the brothers and sisters he cherished in the service had been lost, killed, or moved on. cyrus felt as if part of him was left out there, far from where he was in chicago.
when he had gone off to war, he worried for his siblings. upon his return, they worried for him; many years his juniors, they couldn’t have been more than twelve and ten respectively. the first fourth of july home was a noted one in the rousseau family. at the first thundering echo of a firework detonating in the sky, cyrus ran and tackled his siblings to the ground and covered their heads. It was a snap instinct, one that came with the echo of bombs overhead.
soon after, he was encouraged to see a therapist through the local va. diagnosed with ptsd as many veterans are, the therapist had an almost sickeningly positive outlook on cyrus’s prognosis. it seemed he was one of the few she believed in to pull himself out of the binds of a mental illness.
after a few sessions, his therapist encouraged him to get a service animal. after signing up and getting his certifications for a service animal taken care of, he adopted a rottweiler puppy. he named him LOOMIS.
however, there is no one can fake a fantasy like the son of a model. outwardly, cyrus was still charming, still personable, and most of all: still lethal. writing did precious little to staunch his emotions, but fighting did. though his training was limited compared to what it had been when he was a kid, he rejoined the local boxing gym and threw himself into the ring. the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the echoes that stirred his memories of war, the numbing catharsis that came after the bell rang all felt like coming home. it seemed the more violent the outburst, the more he felt at home.
there was nothing out of the realm of possibility for cyrus and his tastes; sleeping around, drinking, partying, fighting, living the reckless life of a daredevil whenever given the chance. joining the o’sheas after his father was a move that made sense. every risky behavior was lidocaine on a burn, a cool soothing menthol that eased the scald of emotions he’d rather not feel. binge after binge, everything started to blur together- no obligation, no feeling, nothing but the bed of a woman who would have him.
when he carried out what was asked of him as an initiation, he did so quickly, cleanly, and concisely. after all he’d seen on the plane of war, the carnage came as second nature. it made sense to do it for the sake of the family he claimed.
like all fears, his soon became realized. their father disappeared. though cyrus searched, he quickly lost hope they would ever find their father alive. he had seen enough in the service to know that if someone was gone for long enough, the’d never come back. with this effectuation of his father’s fate in mind, it became all too apparent to cyrus that everything changed.
cyrus couldn’t afford to be a mess in front of his siblings or in front of the walsh’s. he was the theoretical head of the rousseau’s. he would be their protector, and do everything in his power to ensure their safety and happiness. it felt as though everything fell to him; he could not be anything less than the man his father.
#crimson.intro#war tw#murder tw#violence tw#welcome to cyrus#this boy is a shit heap#but love him pls
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A Story Twenty Years in the Making
CW: Swearing, sex, transphobia (Look, I'm not proud of who I was).
Shortly after I was born, a cousin of mine was as well. My mother took me to a store where she looked to buy a dress for her new niece to celebrate her birth. A woman stopped and looked at my mother, baby Devon in the stroller, dress in her hand, and curiously spoke up.
"Excuse me miss, but you know that you have a boy, right?" The woman shopping, presumably for her own daughter, had said to my mother.
"Of course I know I have a son. What about it?" My mother said in response.
"Well, that's a dress you're holding. Why would you be buying that for your son?" The woman puzzled.
My mother, quick as a whip and smarter than most people I know today, responded without a second thought.
"I'm letting him experiment with his sexuality."
---
At twelve (12) years old, I became aware of this really weird website. You see, everyone was talking about it, a schoolyard rumour we didn't dare to talk about in front of the teachers. The mythical status of this website was nothing to scoff at, students would huddle around and talk about their findings. It was like an ARG, a new puzzle added every day. The school was rife with these conversations, and everyone was hooked.
I'm of course talking about Pornhub.
Obligatory "don't go on Pornhub unless you're the legal viewing age in your country" aside (even though I'm aware those warnings stop nobody), I too became a curious mind. One day, when my parents had slipped out of the house and I was alone, I pulled it up on my computer upstairs. What I say fascinated me, women and men having sex.
Sex. Woah. Penises, vaginas, anuses. There was everything on this website. Everything. Including this one tab which I didn't dare click.
This one category had what appears to be two men on it. I assumed it was two men, after all neither of them had pronounced breasts like all the women had. And the title of the category? Gay. 'What the fuck does that mean?' twelve-year-old (12) me thought. I ignored it, thought it was weird, and continued on.
In the back of my mind, I was curious. A few weeks after watching straight porn and being mostly repulsed by how awful the women screamed in those videos, I tried it. I clicked on the category tab and was immediately hit with my first exposure to the gay community.
'Twink? Bear? Fisting? Now that's nasty.' I was curiously disgusted but clicked on anyways. "Twinks" looked cute, so I clicked there. Wait, cute? Did I really think these guys were cute? Like I thought my girlfriend was cute?
The video was, simply put, less aggressive than straight porn. Holy shit was straight porn aggressive. It terrified me how much those women screamed like the men were killing them by inserting their penises too far into their bodies. But gay porn looked softer. It was sweeter, with more love. After all, sex is about love, right? Forgive my younger self, you see. He clearly did not understand that nothing in porn is about love. But hey, when working with a half deck, you have to make the cards work.
So I watched gay porn over straight porn. That doesn't mean I'm gay! But wait, if gay porn is between two men, what is porn between a woman and a man. What's porn between two women? Never mind, I'm not that curious about two women together.
A quick Google search sent me down the most soul-searching adventure I'd ever partake in. At least, up until this point.
I soon learned what gay meant, what straight meant, what lesbian meant. You mean boys liking other boys was normal? Girls can like other girls? Wait, you can like boys and girls?
Oh, wait, you can also not be sexually attracted to anyone.
Asexual was a term I first read those years ago, and I soon thought that it described me. See, up until this point, women never interested me sexually. I was twelve (12). Sex really never crossed my mind, even when it was supposed to. But I was watching porn, I thought!
Doesn't matter. I didn't want to be part of those acts. That's what made me ace, I thought.
My lord was I wrong. (Not about ace people, but about my identity. This is where things get juicy. And chuddy.)
---
Okay, so cut to two years later. I'm fourteen (14), in grade ten (10) during Art class. One of my friends sat beside me, my ex across from me, and I hated Art class. Why'd I taken this god-awful course again? Regardless, as I sat there and thought, I thought about my bullying up until high school.
I filled out as a kid. I mean that literally, I grew tall and wide really quickly. No one fucked with me when I was in high school. No one wanted to, and I faded to the background.
But in elementary school, I was the new kid. Backing up to 2009, eight-year-old (8) Devon moved. I would celebrate my ninth (9th) birthday in a class where no one knew me or no one cared. Well, that's not true. One kid cared. Bless that kid. Regardless, 9-year-old (9) me had a target on his back. A big one, and it quickly meant I was being bullied.
My mother is terrifying. I use bold there because I don't think italics can describe just how terrifying mama-bear is when she's angry. After finding out that I was being bullied, she pulled into the school and chewed out the principal. And the parents. And the kids. Hell hath no fury like a mother who went through the shit mine did. So quickly the bullying died down.
Stopped? No, but quieted. My new friends surrounded me in a wonderful bubble of love, but that didn't mean they also didn't pick on me. The most common insult? Gay.
Gay? Like, porn gay? No no no, I said. I'm not gay.
Cut back to 14-year-old (14) me, thinking throughout Art class. I swear Ms. Taylor had it out for me. Oh, right, gay.
'Holy shit.' I thought.
'Wait. They're right, I'm gay. I like men. Holy shit I really like men. Men are hot, and I want to be with one so bad. But I live in this crap town of conservatives (my parents taught me right, conservatives are some of the shittiest people on the planet after all).'
Okay, so I'm gay. I figured that out at the very least! Now I have to tell people.
Oh. Fuck. I have to tell people.
Coming out. Hell, as I like to call it. First to my friends. My friends would understand, after all, I had a pansexual friend. What the fuck does pansexual mean? Never mind that Devon, focus on your own damn self for a second.
Oh. My. God. I have to tell people.
I pulled up my big boy pants and blurted out in the middle of class...
Nothing. What did you expect?
I waited 'till the next morning. That made sense.
---
"Hi, Sierrah!" I said to my colourful friend. Her hair was always a different colour every month and still is. I wish I had half the hair strength she must have.
"Hey, Devon!" She said, blue backpack on her back, meeting up with me to walk to school in the morning.
"I have something to tell you. I'm gay." She looked at me and squealed before wrapping me in a big hug.
"I'm so proud of you!" Okay, one down. A lot more to go.
My best friend in high school used to be someone who I absolutely despised. We bonded over our shared dislike of our shared ex. We became really close. Telling him was pretty easy. Okay, two down.
Remember that girl I sat beside during Art? Not my ex, the one I bonded with my best friend over disliking, I meant the girl sitting beside me. Well, let me tell you.
No one can give me a reception nearly half as good as what she did when I told her.
"Sara, I'm gay," I said. Less than five (5) seconds later, my face was buried in the tits of Sara. That was... fun. Not sexual in the slightest, it was fun. She was warm, and she loved me. I could tell that as a friend, Sara would become the most important person in my life. Thank you, Sara. Should you ever read this.
I hope someone reads this.
Anyone?
Moving on, I eventually told all my friends that day. None of them gave a shit! Cool!
My parents.
Oh no. My parents were next.
I'm skipping that part, it's no longer relevant.
Sorry. (Not sorry in the slightest.)
---
So I graduated the gay kid of 2018. Yay! Seventeen-year-old (17) me made it to grad!
But before I did, I need to preface this part of the story. I was, unfortunately, a fan of Soygon of Asskad. And Blairina Weiss.
Shame. Shame. Shame. Not a day goes by where I'm not sorry for my actions during this period of my life. I am so profusely sorry for the racism and transphobia I perpetuated during this period of my life. I was even homophobic. God damn it, Devon, what the fuck are you doing?
I am now a proud socialist. University helped. So did Vaush, and BadBunny (who's chat might be reading this. Henlo Nicole! Henlo chat!).
Scream at me about Vaush later.
Okay, where was I? Right, grad. University applications.
I made it into the University of Toronto Mississauga. Canada's best university. One of the best universities in the world. Holy shit, I should be more proud of myself for that. I am proud. I made it there, and as I write this, I'm on my last year.
Here's to me becoming a med student soon, I hope!
So school happened. I went to school as a shy gay kid with undiagnosed anxiety problems. That wouldn't last, and soon my anxiety was written in the prescriptions I was handed over the counter for Lexapro. This is where I met my first friend from university.
He will remain unnamed for legal reasons.
He introduced me to one of the most beautiful men I've met to this date.
S. (Name redacted for reasons you need not know. Not legal reasons. Personal ones. Please respect this decision.)
Woah, was this guy just... hot. He was an athlete, no way he'd like me. He probably also sleeps around, and I don't want that.
Boy was I wrong. I soon found out that S was very much into me. I was someone's crush. Wow!
That eventually turned into a... relationship. You get the gist. Affirmation.
I was very, very gay. S helped me understand that I was very very gay.
Okay, so eighteen-year-old (18) Devon was gay. That was very clear.
So that's the end of the story, right?
No.
We just crossed the halfway point.
---
Cut to twenty (20). I am gay, an active chatter in BadBunny's (Twitch streamer, not singer) discord, and really really confused.
See, progressive streamers like BadBunny typically have features to add yourself to a role on Discord that would tell everyone your pronouns when they clicked on your profile. This is a really good way to affirm pronouns of everyone, so I'm down.
Well, I do have one problem. Any/all isn't listed here. Wait.
Wait...
Any? All?
Why do I feel like this?
I'm cis. Let me make that clear. I am cisgendered. I identify as a man, I was born a man, and I think I will always be a man. I think.
But I know pronouns don't necessarily tell you someone's gender. They is a really popular pronoun for all sorts of non-binary identities, all of which are different from each other. So pronouns do not equal gender.
Can I really use they/them, she/her, he/him, fae/faer, fawn/fawn, etc/etc. all while being cis? I think so, let's try it! I don't know how to describe my gender, all I know is I'm apathetic to my pronouns.
Cut to a TikTok video. I learned my fucking gender identity from a TikTok video. This is why representation is important.
"Gender Apathy" we're the words coming from this person's mouth. She? He? Them? Didn't matter, they didn't care. I didn't care.
We didn't care.
Holy fuck.
---
Google has been a really important resource for me as an academic student. Wikipedia articles affirm my suspicions before I move onto Google Scholar to look up articles.
I'm fucking kidding.
Fuck Google Scholar.
But Google did introduce me to the world of fandom wikis.
Is gender wiki a thing? LGBTQ+ wiki?
As it turns out, it is.
Gender Apathy is an article there, as well as many many other identities. If you're question, do some keyword searches. You'll never know what you find.
Anyways, Gender Apathy. Cisapathetic, which I kind of interpret as someone who identifies as cisgender but doesn't really care? I guess? This is all still confusing, but whatever. Cisapathetic.
I quickly shared this with all my friends. I found something new out!
But we aren't done yet.
---
Cut to a little while later. It's Pride month, 2021. This month, if you happen to read this as soon as it goes up! Someone on TikTok is making Pride moths.
Fucking TikTok.
Moths were, at one point, a really popular meme online. Lämp. Gen Z humour will be the end of us all.
So naturally, people found a love for moths. Great, that's lead us to this point. I notice during these videos that these moths are pretty. I want one, or rather, two.
I want the modern Pride moth. The trans flag and a black and brown stripe were included on this modern Pride flag to signal that BIPOC are central to Pride, and need to be celebrated and that our trans friends need our help. Need our platform. Need our rights too.
And I wanted the Gender Apathetic moth. After all, it was something new I discovered! Well, I noticed something in the comments while I was requesting a Gender Apathetic moth from this creator (they were open to suggestions, so please don't heckle me about it). One commenter said the words "are you doing a Neptunic/Uranic/Saturnic moth as well?" What the hell are those?
To the LGBTA wiki!
Neptunic is described as a sexuality "attracted to women, feminine non-binary people and neutral non-binary people."
Saturnic is described as a sexuality "attracted to androgynous aligned non-binary people."
Uranic is the one I'm really curious about then. I'm attracted to men, after all. Uranic is described as a sexuality "attracted to men, masculine non-binary people and neutral non-binary people."
Woah.
So let me back up a little bit.
When I had access to Twitter (they suspended me for defending my sexuality from someone who was saying gay men all have AIDS, so thanks Twitter) I once made a thread talking about how I didn't feel comfortable with calling myself gay.
"But Devon," I hear you say, "the whole first half of this story was dedicated to you realizing you were gay! How can you say that after wasting so much of our fucken' time?"
Give me a minute, dear reader. Let me explain what I said in this thread.
As I type this out, I recognize the transphobia I had against trans-men even while typing out that thread. I want to say, right here, right now, that my sexuality is trans-inclusive. Men with vaginas are still men. I am still very much attracted to men with vaginas. But this thread still falls on transphobic remarks. Once again, I profusely apologize for my past. I am currently working towards being a better person to my trans friends, both online and offline. I am doing my best to be better. I love you all, and I thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this.
Oh, and U of T, if you're reading this, before you even think about kicking me out for admitting my previous bigotry, I urge you to think about your staff first. Jordan Peterson still has a job and makes the campus trans-exclusive as he continues to teach. Catch yourself before you come for me, a student doing his best to be better.
Okay, so back to the Twitter thread.
I essentially said something along the lines of this:
I really struggle with calling myself gay when in reality, I'm only attracted to people with penises, and who lack vaginas and breasts. I would have sex with non-binary people who have penises. So am I really just "gay?"
But in a lot more words. Before I continue, I want to take the time to explain how this comment is transphobic, and why I am sorry and why I want to explain that I no longer feel this way. Okay? So, here's the short of it:
I go by the term gay, but by saying I'm explicitly only attracted to people with penises while liking men, I was indirectly making the point that trans-men are not men if they too do not have penises.
This is not true. Trans men are men, and I have come to realize my attraction for trans men as well, despite genitalia. My sexuality encompasses men of all kinds, and non-binary people who are masculine aligned or neutrally aligned. Once again, I can only apologize and do better.
I am sorry for my previous transphobia. I hope I can make it better by acknowledging it and doing my best to avoid these implications ever again.
Okay, now that we have all of that out of the way, let's talk Uranic again.
Uranic really does describe me. I feel it in every bone of my body, that I really do find myself sexually attracted to even non-binary people.
So, gay is out, uranic is in.
Where does that leave me today?
---
When I started this post, I explained how I was a cisgendered gay man who was a liberal who almost fell down the alt-right pipeline. But as I type this post, not only has my identity evolved, but so has my political ideology. I am a cisapathetic, uranic man who still uses the term gay in casual conversation because it's easier even though it doesn't really describe me, socialist.
BadBunny/Nicole, chat, if you're reading this, thank you. You helped me a ton in discovering socialism and to reject ideas of capitalism that only serve to continue the systematic racism against black people, the systematic transphobia that kills trans people, and even the systematic homophobia I face as a "gay" man.
Wow, that was long. Really long. If you made it this far, give yourself a pat on the back. You just read the life history of a twenty-year-old (20) and how he came to understand his identity.
I love you all.
Signed,
Devon.
FunkyFreshHomo on Discord.
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OWP Day 2 - Hunger
Read on AO3
-----
“You two are going to die.”
Morgan’s arms were crossed over his chest, eyebrows raised in annoyed surprise. He was staring down at Kit and Reid, who were sitting on the floor against the wall in the hallway of their hotel. There were a few empty chip bags near them, one even hanging precariously from the edge of the trashcan where Reid had thrown it. Both of the BAU’s youngest members had cheered at the accomplishment, and considering the fact that it was past midnight, they’d thought it was an appropriate reaction.
“Why?” Reid said around his snack cake, and Kit giggled as she pulled a bite-sized cookie from her bag and popped it into her mouth.
Morgan gestured vaguely around them. “That’s gotta be a joke, right?”
Kit looked up at him with a wicked grin, holding the bag out to him. “Do you want one?” Morgan scoffed, shaking his head at the pair of them. “No, I don’t want a tiny cookie at almost one in the morning. Why are you awake anyway?”
“Why are you awake?” Reid shot back quickly, but there was no heat in his voice.
Morgan watched them, both looking up at him with searching eyes, before his posture relaxed a bit. “Because this case is messing with my head.”
“Mine too,” Kit said quietly, once again holding out the cookie bag to him, “Last chance.”
Morgan shook his head before running a hand down his face. “No thanks, I just came to get some ice. Didn’t think I’d run into a leprechaun and a pretty boy.”
Reid pulled a face, but Kit giggled again, contentedly shoving another cookie in her mouth.
It wasn’t the first time Morgan had found them like that; chip bags everywhere, some sort of sweet vending machine delicacy being torn into like they hadn’t eaten dinner six hours beforehand.
Kit was the one that had found Reid, at least the first time, with a candy bar sticking from between his teeth as he loaded another quarter in the hotel vending machine. She’d been pacing, trying to burn some of the jittery energy she could still feel pulsing through her veins before she could try to get some sleep. Her eyes had widened when she saw him, but instead of scolding him, she’d raced back to her room.
It was only a minute later she reappeared with a sock full of quarters, and it had taken all of ten minutes for them to be sat against the wall, snack bags on the floor, Reid chattering away about whatever was on his mind with Kit jumping in every so often, but mostly active-listening. They weren’t really friends, per say. They didn’t hang out, or even get along like she had begun to with the rest of the team (sans Gideon, to Reid’s never ending confusion), but after that first time, it became a sort-of ritual.
In cases when they were staying somewhere overnight, and if the hotel had a vending machine on their floor, they would both be there. Acting like best friends until the morning would come and remind them that they were far, far from it.
They watched as Morgan stalked back down the hallway, turning the corner to find his room. Neither of them spoke until they heard his door close, and when it did, they both broke into peals of stifled laughter.
“Why does he need ice after midnight?” Kit asked, her voice full of mirth. Spencer shook his head. “I don’t know why Morgan does anything he does. I never have.”
He took another bite of his snack cake, his laughter ebbing and giving away to a contented sigh. “I love these.”
“Yeah?” she turned her body to face him, her eyes squinting through her sugar-smudged glasses.
“Yeah.”
“My favorite have always been these,” she said, gesturing to the empty, snack-sized bag of sour cream and cheddar chips.
“Always?” He asked, and she nodded, pulling another cookie from her bag. “Yeah. Monty and Ari and I did a lot of vending machine chips for lunch starting in seventh grade.”
“Ah, the preferred diet of teenagers.”
She smirked at him, shrugging and saying, “We were eleven."
Reid raised an eyebrow at her, absent-mindedly wiping his hands on his sweatpants. "Did you skip a grade?"
She shook her head quickly, frowning down at her empty cookie bag. "Yeah, and we've got a summer birthday, so we were always younger than everyone else."
"What grade?" He asked, now sitting forward instead of against the wall. He hadn’t known she’d skipped a grade. He didn’t really know all that much about her, save from what she’d divulged in their midnight snack machine confessions.
"Fourth," she sighed, putting the empty bag on the floor with the others. “Which our parents hated.”
Reid didn’t seem to understand what she meant. “They hated that you skipped a grade? They have to sign a form for that.”
She shook her head, searching the ground for an uneaten snack. “No, no they hated that we skipped fourth grade.”
“Why?” He pressed, startled when she didn’t answer, but instead cheered. “Aha! I knew we had another one.” She ripped the bag chips open and grinned over at him. “Sorry, did you say something?”
He blinked at her for a moment before he nodded. “Why did your parents hate that you skipped fourth grade?”
The light in her eyes died for a moment, as if she suddenly realized what she’d said. “Oh. It’s not really something we talk about.” She busied herself with picking up the empty wrappers around them, putting it all in one pile to the side instead of strewn all over the floor. They were adults, after all, though they probably looked more like exhausted teenagers.
Reid seemed to take the hint. She didn’t want to talk about it. But without her answering there was silence, and he hated the silence, so he said quietly. “Sometimes, if my mom was having a bad day, the only food I got was out of the vending machine at school. Especially in high school.”
Kit didn’t respond right away. She knew about his mother’s schizophrenia. It was in his medical file, so it didn't surprise her. Very few things about Reid did, and she was learning over the course of sparse conversations over bags of probably-expired chips and candy that he was less of a threat than she’d initially thought. He wasn’t some robot spy of Gideons. He was a kid, just like she was.
“We got free lunch in elementary school,” she said finally, not quite ready to look at him. “Our parents worked in a pub, with another man that we called Uncail even though he isn’t our uncle. They immigrated from Ireland all together before Wash was born.”
She was quiet again, but Reid didn’t speak. He was watching her body language closely, and she wasn’t quite done.
“We didn’t have a lot of money. But we got fed at school, and we were fed at home, just not always as much as we maybe should have.” She palmed at her eyes. “They wouldn’t push the grant past elementary school. Not in our district, so once we got to middle school, we were sort of on our own. Mam and dad didn’t like that we missed a year of having that.”
Kit glanced over to the vending machine that they’d raided not even an hour before, and then at the chip bags they’d blown through, piled at her side.
“I guess old habits die hard,” she said quietly. Reid nodded, surprising her when his tone came with optimism. “They do,” he said, “But without previous food insecurity, or psychological imprinting from childhood hunger, you and I would never have started this tradition.”
She looked at him for a moment before a smile started to play at her lips. “Tradition?”
“Yeah,” he said, his smile only faltering for a second when nervous energy came off of him in a wave. “This is what, the fifth time we’ve done this?”
Kit knew he knew. It was exactly the fifth time they’d done it, and he wouldn’t need confirmation. But he asked for it anyway, and her smile widened.
“Yeah, it is.”
“I’d say that’s a tradition.” He punctuated his statement with a shrug, tossing his empty snack cake wrapper into the pile. She nodded, and when she spoke, she felt lighter, somehow.
“I’d say so.”
#Brenna writes things#or at least she tries#October Writing Prompts#day 2#hunger#Criminal Minds#SCRC
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↳ BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS W/ STEVE HARRINGTON | MASTERLIST
Fandom: Stranger Things
Request: —
Count: 90
A/N: just a sweet lil thing for now. in the process of cooking up some actual fics & stuff though, just take this for now, thanks
The two of you would first meet when you’re young
Kindergarten, in the beginning of the year, when the teacher first assigns seats
You’d be tasked with sitting right beside Steve Harrington
At first, you’d be annoyed by him
He’s always playing with his hair and kicking his feet against the metal chair legs, tapping his pencil against the table
But eventually, the two of you start to get to know each other, and it stops being annoying
And after that, the two of you just clicked
Always begging your parents to let you go to each other’s houses, to spend the night, to let the two of you ride your bikes up to the park together
Over the moon kind of excited when they agreed, and with that, the pair of you became inseparable
As the two of you grew older, you didn't drift apart like your parents had all kind of expected you to
In fact, you only became closer
Still pretty much never apart from one another, all throughout elementary & middle school and into high school
When you’re not home, you're with Steve, and vice versa
Everyone realizes that it’s actually probably safer for you to be together instead of alone so it’s fine, whatever
When he wanted to go to a party? Fine, you’ll lie to your parents and tag along
If you want to go to the pool for the ninth day in a row? Alright, give him a few minutes to get ready
Neither of you had ever really thought of each other as more than best friends until the summer before sophomore year
Steve had started realizing that he’s started getting more nervous around you than he had ever been before
And when you'd fall asleep on his lap or lean over on his chest or shoulder, he can't help but just admire you
You’re so beautiful and you're one of the best people he knows, so kind and intelligent and responsible, and just so fucking gorgeous
And you’re his best friend, he shouldn't be thinking about you like that
So he just puts that on the back burner for a while, trying to forget about it
It takes you a little longer to realize your feelings for him, but boy, when you do...
It was close to midnight and everything in Hawkins was closed, but the two of you were energized and needed to do something, anything, to cure the boredom in your minds
And it was hot, a very warm summer night in July
So the two of you decided to go down to the lake and swim for a while, underneath the stars and bright moonlight
At one point, you went under in the cold water, and Steve snuck up on you
When you came up, he found himself a little closer than he'd expected
He was all you could see, your faces so close, your warm bodies against each other, his dark hazel eyes looking down at you
You were certain you had turned to jelly, your eyes practically hearts, as you looked at him
Bright hazel eyes, bare chest glimmering with water droplets and his hair sticking to his face, he was handsome, and you’d just now realized that
But didn't seem to notice your reaction at all
Steve just grinned, picking you up and putting you on his shoulders to walk back to the shore, where you relaxed and talked for a few minutes before riding home on the back of his bike
Just the memory of it was enough to give you butterflies in your stomach and a little pink blush across your cheeks
Much like Steve, you just tried to shrug the whole thing off, trying not to think too much about it
But as time went on, it seemed as if it was the only thing either of you could think about
The two of you just quietly existed with each other, and from the outside, it surely looked like you were slowly falling apart
But in reality, you’d never really been closer than you were now
It all reached a fever pitch about a year later, in the middle of Junior year
Steve had taken a liking to the party scene in Hawkins, and had quickly increased in popularity
Found a couple of new asshole friends to hang out with when he wasn’t with you, became the town’s Keg King, grown a rather high tolerance to hard liquor (for a 17 year old)
You were never much into it, only really attending a couple here and there when he reaaaaally wanted you there
On Halloween night that year, it all happened so fast
You’d decided to drink with him, which was an uncommon occasion as you were usually his DD
The two of you got absolutely plastered and a little bit high, danced and partied together for a few hours before slowly beginning the short walk back to his house
(Because you’d made & strictly enforced a no biking while inebriated rule a looong time ago after he smashed into someone’s mailbox)
When the two of you got home, you went up to his room, being as quiet as you possibly could (which was actually a bit too loud) in your drunken states
Once you were up there, the two of you flopped down onto his bed and relaxed
And then it was almost like a switch flipped within you
You both went from rambunctious and drunk and loud to calm and almost serene, unusually so
And then slowly, the two of you inched closer to one another, and eventually your lips pressed together in a sweet little kiss
His hand started to drift off to your waist and you eagerly brought your hand to tangle into his hair, pulling him closer
This was exactly what both of you had been waiting for, for so long now
After a moment, you both just pulled away, breaking into manical laughter like it was the funniest thing in the world
It didn’t take long before both of you fell asleep after that
And in the morning, you both pretended not to remember it, but ...
It’s definitely safe to say you did, vividly
Time passed and neither of you said anything, just continued on like usual, even through Will Byers’ disappearance and the events that followed
The two of you were just existing together in peace until he started dating Nancy Wheeler in the first semester of senior year
You couldn’t help but feel a little tiny, itty bitty, minuscule pang of jealousy when you watched him wrap his arms around her, keeping her close or picking her up to kiss her
You just kind of ignored it, hanging out with different people for a while and hoping Steve didn’t notice too much
But he did, it didn’t feel right not having you by his side, especially after the events of last year(/season one)
So eventually, he broke up with Nancy, which was actually pretty great because she got with Jonathan Byers instead, and he seemed much better for her, to say the least
Steve wouldn’t even know where to begin with asking you out
You’d known each other for, what?
Ten, twelve years now?
You’d been everywhere and done everything with each other, always, you were always together and never separate
Hell, he’s literally seen you naked before or whatever but now he’s getting nauseous even thinking about officially spilling his feelings for you even though he was like 70% sure you liked him back
Just so nervous and anxious, more than he’d ever been for any girl
Not any fling or hookup, not any girlfriend he had when he was younger, and certainly not Nancy Wheeler
Eventually, he would just get some pretty flowers and come up to your bedroom window at midnight, knocking quietly on the glass so he doesn’t wake your family
When you answer and give him a shy little smile and invite him in, glad to see him, he just melts and forgets everything he’s planned on saying
His mouth goes dry and his heart starts beating so much faster and his mind is racing and he thinks he might actually fall over dead
So instead, he just sits down on your bed, staring at the roses in his hands
“So, you know, we’ve been friends our whole lives. That’s cool. You’ve always been there for me. When I shot myself with that stapler in the sixth grade and had to go to the hospital, when my parents got me the car. All my birthday parties and shit. Always around, even during the summer when you had better things to do than hang out with me and get stoned and get into trouble. I don’t know, I just really appreciate that and I love you a lot. Anyway so I think I might actually be in love with you and you know, that’d be nice if you could just say something about right now so I don’t just sit here and ramble like an idi-“
He’s cut off from his rant with a kiss that ends with you in his lap, leaning against his chest, foreheads pressed together as you stare into his hazel eyes
“Don’t know why it took so long,” You’d tease. “I’ve wanted to make a move since the lake during sophomore year, shit just kept getting in the way.”
He’s literally stunned to hear you say that, because what?? Even?? What??
The two of you lowkey pillowtalking until he finally asks you the big question
“Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?”
“Yes, you doofus, I’m your girlfriend now.”
“And I’m your boyfriend! I’ve wanted to say that for so long, you don’t even know.”
He’s a little too enthusiastic about that, the way he says it is so cute
All of his nervousness and anxiety from earlier just melts away as you just grin at him, that sweet look in your eyes that he loves so much
The two of you end up laying in bed curled up together, talking until you both pass out sometime near five in the morning
The golden yellow haze of the morning sun was just beginning to creep through your bedroom window, the very same one he’d crawled through hours earlier
You’d probably wake up sometime around ten and just decide to go back t sleep, no one will notice that you’re not there
But they do notice, and they definitely take note of how you and Steve are both gone on the same day, and the wild rumors begin to swirl around the school
That’s fine though, because fuck all of them, honestly
You have Steve and he has you and that’s all either of you really need
#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington imagine#joe keery#joe keery fanfiction#joe keery one shot#joe keery imagine#stranger things#stranger things one shot#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things imagine#st#st1#st2#st3
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Searching for Belonging (An essay I created in an English class in 2015)
Searching for Belonging
Have you ever felt incomplete, blank, or just do not feel like you belong? Have you had certain events take place in your life that caused you to feel this way? I know I have. All my life I have been searching for where I belong, because really I have no clue.
I wake up every morning expressionless. No, not because that is how most people wake up. I wake up knowing that I am not going through a life like most people. I am always haunted by the recurring images of the past, my past. A past that has changed my life, who I am, and how I act or think in different situations. If you must know, my past is very corrupted.
First of all, my parents, as well as most of my father’s brothers, were dropouts. They never finished high school and I guess it’s because they just didn’t want to take life seriously. It lead to a very difficult life. In order for my parents to provide the usual essentials that we need to survive, they both had to work. However, no matter how many times my siblings and I were left at home so they could work as much as they could, it still was not enough to get much to provide for all of us. While they worked, my oldest sister who was only sixteen at the time and was barely old enough, had to babysit the rest of us. There’s ten of us; five girls and five boys. I know what you’re thinking. “TEN KIDS!!” Yeah, crazy right? It was already hard enough for my parents to just have five of us.
When I was six years old, my siblings and I were separated from our parents. The main reason why was negligence. A while later, we were able to see them, but it was only once a week. At the age of seven or eight, I found out that my father was arrested and was sent to jail. I did not know why, but when I found out, I had many questions for him. I wondered, “Why did he do it? When will he get back out? When can we live together again?” At the age of ten my mother left for the states. What sucks is that she did not even tell us. Maybe she did, but I would have remembered. The last I remember seeing her, she was visiting me while I was in the hospital for a serious head injury I had. It was only for split seconds as I was still not well enough to stay awake. She took my two oldest sisters with her and I have not seen them since. As for my father, my younger siblings and I still continued to see him once a week for several years. There were some difficulties which unfortunately lead to the ending of all visits.
You’re probably wondering, “How does this tie to my topic, ‘Searching for Belonging’”. Well you see, when my siblings and I got separated from our parents, we were taken in by one of our relatives, an aunt and uncle. To me I felt that both of them did not have parental love and affection or even guidance that every child needs. Though at the age of ten there was an arrangement for me to move in with one of our other uncle’s. I thought it would be good because I thought I would be able to escape, but I was wrong. I was mistreated the whole time. Even up until now. All my life I have grown with anger and hate, which I have been able to hide from those around me, such as my friends. Unfortunately, I still never had parental guidance, or love and affection. I feel like because of that, I had forgotten how it really feels to have parents.
A few years passed and my siblings and I grew more apart from the separation. Not to mention our aunt, whom they are still living with, probably “still” feeds them crazy ideas and lies. Not being with my siblings, it has also made me forget what it is like to have them. It is as if I became the only child. If you are still wondering how this ties to my topic, don’t worry, I’m getting there. Anyway, I do hear stories from my friends or see how they are with their parents and siblings. It makes me feel so distant from mine. Which I am. My uncle has two daughters, but it does not make up for the loneliness I have at home. Home is supposed to be where family should be. But, unfortunately, we are all over the place. My uncle does not make a good father figure to me either. That is how I feel, at least.
A few months after my uncle took me in, and meeting his oldest daughter(my cousin), who is four years younger than me, she began to think that I was their slave. Yes, you read that right. She thought that I was their slave and she has been thinking that for a few years. She got that idea from her dad. He had me do this and that, fetch this and that, and even throw this and that. When I did something he disliked, even if so little, he would always yell or scold me. And so his daughter ended up doing the same thing to me. Besides the yelling and scolding. Did I stop her, no I did not. Because I felt like her dad was just going to scold me again. So for a few years, I felt like I was treated like a slave.
Throughout my elementary school years, I was bullied. I was one of those very weird kids who pretends he can fly or threatens his reflection, pretending that it’s the enemy he is confronting. Most of the time I went to school with wet clothes. I was always teased and told I stink. Half the time I ended up being sent home too. Although I did get bullied for other things. It was constant and it caused me to keep skipping school a lot. I was only in the first grade and I ended up having to repeat it the next year. After that I never skipped school or class.
I did not have many friends. I did have a few, maybe about three to five. But the bullying, the family separation, the constant slavery, etc., it was not enough to feel like I belong. The whole time, I felt like I was at the bottom of the food chain. Then I went on to middle school. I matured a bit more, and I also gained even more friends. It honestly seemed like I was getting to know and being friends with almost everyone I meet.
I began to feel like I was starting to belong or be accepted. I even put myself out there by joining sports, and I got much attention. The bullying didn’t stop, it just wasn’t as bad. I felt a lot was changing; sports, more friends, even my first relationship. Things seemed to be turning around for me. It did make me want to be around my friends more often. They would always take away that loneliness, bring a smile upon my face, and shine some light in the dark areas of my heart. I still had some empty pieces. Pieces I felt my friends alone could not fill.
Everyone has a talent or a hobby; something they can do, or has a characteristic that everyone likes. I have always felt that I don't have any. I can’t draw, I can’t sing, I can’t play music, etc. I have very little creativity. Occasionally, there are moments that I do get creative though I always have a hard time trying to get it out of my head. Whenever I do get these once in a blue moon moments, they always come to me at the last minute.
I would try to motivate myself to find a hidden talent or a hobby, but there are times when I just get lazy or even quit. When that happens, I end up believing that it is not for me, and that I do not have any talents. I have always believed that having a talent is a huge thing. Talents can help you get yourself out there. It can help make people know who you are because you can do this one certain thing and you’re known because that is what you can do. I can do neither, and so it is hard.
There are times that when I would see people who are dropouts or really struggle in life, my blood begins to boil. Why? Why does my blood boil when I see them or when I am near them? I do not know. I can only guess it is because my parents as well as other relatives, were dropouts. In a way I blame them for their failures as well as the separation and I end up having negative feelings for some people that are struggling. I would end up thinking, “Maybe you should have been taking your life more seriously. Maybe then, you would not be in this kind of lifestyle.”
The same goes for my uncles. They lost my respect. Not only because they are dropouts, but also because their attitudes and their behaviors are irritating. They can be childish at times and I can only think of their immaturity. I do not shake their hands to greet them. Sometimes I do not even look at them. Harsh, right? I know. I end up thinking again, “You dropped out. You gave up on your education and now you struggle. You are not better than me.”
You see, I search for belonging because I lack what every person should have. The main reason, I suspect, is family. I always hear from people that family is forever and they always stick together. It seems though, that it did not apply to my family and I.
Belonging is the acceptance as a natural member or part. Searching for belonging is the constant thoughts of low self esteem that goes with negative thoughts of not being good enough. It is one of the main reasons some people wake up feeling blank or incomplete. It is one reason unanswered questions are brought to light. Many people go far and wide to search for belonging. It can be very frustrating and it can cause depression and anxiety.
I want to emphasize that this is an essay I created for an English class in 2015. The reason I wrote this is because we were assigned to write about something about ourselves that no one knows about. I came up with nothing else but my childhood for this essay. I know in this essay, I am depicted as a disrespectful and angry person, though think...what child isn’t that is going through what I did or worse?
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Teach or Be Taught
Genre: elementary school teacher!Jaehyun, elementary school teacher!reader, fluff, gender neutral
Word Count: 7.2k
Excerpt: “Here, you can lean on my shoulder. You have like forty-five minutes to take a nap.” He scoots a little closer, supplying you with the maximum amount of comfort he can. You thank him quietly, nuzzling into his side while leaning your head on his shoulder. Jaehyun looks down at you, admiring every eyelash, every freckle, every part of you his eyes can reach. He’s never been in love before, but he swears this is what it feels like.
Masterlist
A/N: I tried a different writing style (which is heavily inspired by @dreaminghaos hi i love your writing style sm I aspire to be like you) bc why not???
Day 1 [8:00 am]
First days are the epitome of all things anxiety inducing. Meeting new people, trying to make said new people like you, all while in a new environment: any anti-social person’s worst nightmare. Every first day of school nerves never failed to bubble up in your throat, palms growing sweaty from mild fear. And, right at this moment, you feel as though your heart is going to fall out of your ass. You know this is what you’ve been waiting for, spending years at uni to work yourself up to that coveted teaching certificate. Now, you have that certificate as well as a job to go with it. Speaking of which…
You’re stood in front of the entryway, wringing your hands together, unable to shake yourself free of your anxieties. The door opened, revealing a tall middle aged woman who beckons you over. Slowly you make your way over, wiping your dampened hands on the front of your pants.
“Are you the new second grade teacher?” She inquires, looking you over.
“Ah, yes. My name is Y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” You give her a small bow.
“You’re here bright and early, aren’t you? Come on, I’ll show you to your classroom!” She smiles brightly, holding the door open wider to usher you inside. “I’m Han Ana, Mrs. Han to the kids. I’ve been teaching the fourth grade here for about twenty years now.”
You balk at her revelation, feeling like a child next to her. She leads you through the halls, chatting happily about the school before stopping in front of a room.
“Here, room 202 is all yours. You can situate yourself for now, but there’s an all staff meeting in twenty before the kids get here. It’ll be in the staff lounge downstairs. If you need any help I’m right down the hall in 204!” She leaves you at your classroom and you make your way inside. It’s your typical classroom, small desks in rows with one larger sat in the front. You place your bag and laptop on the front desk and open the shades covering the windows. Sunlight bursts throughout the room as you make your way around, inspecting every inch while rearranging desks where needed.
[8:18 am]
You glance up at the clock, only to find that you have less than two minutes to make it to the staff meeting. You race out the door, nearly falling down the stairs before you finally make it to the lounge. Every pair of eyes is on you as soon as you enter and you flush, ducking your head and sitting down next to Ana at one of the many round tables placed precariously around the room.
The staff meeting doesn’t last very long and you’re left with a good half hour before you need to get back to your classroom. Unsure as to what you should do next, you glance nervously around the table you’re sat at. All the unfamiliar faces make your head spin, each of them in their own conversations. Just as you’re about to get up and leave, Ana perks up.
“Oh, right! This is our new teacher, Y/n! They’re taking over for Mr. Park.”
“Thank god, that old man was really getting on my nerves.” A voice pipes up from across the table, pulling laughter from your coworkers.
“You look rather young, Y/n, how old are you?”
“I’m twenty-four. Just graduated a few months ago.” You flush as everyone gawks at you.
“Looks like you’re no longer our youngest teacher, Jaehyun. Think you’re ok with that?”
“I can live with it.” A deep voice chuckles a few seats away from you, and you turn to find the source. His eyes are already on yours and he greets you with a kind smile. “I’m Jung Jaehyun, previous youngest staff in the school. I’m also teaching the second grade.” You give him a soft smile in return, cheeks flushed slightly at his attention.
“It must be nice to finally have someone around your age, Jaehyun. I bet it can be tiring to hang around us old geezers all the time.” Ana pipes up.
“Ahhh, you guys aren’t so bad.” He teased, dimples poking at his cheeks. “But I’m excited to get to know our new addition.”
“We should probably head back to our classrooms. The kids should be arriving in about ten minutes now.” You stand up with everyone else, following them out the door. You feel a light nudge to your left, and turn to find Jaehyun walking beside you.
“What room are you in, newbie?”
“202. What about you?”
“Ah, damn I’m down here in 110. I was hoping we’d be on the same floor. Oh well, guess I’ll see you at lunch.” He grins before turning the corner, leaving you with a parting wave.
[11:50 am]
You’re exhausted yet probably the happiest you’ve ever been. Your students are absolutely adorable and seem to get along as well. The morning was filled with name games and little get-to-know-yous. Now, as you walk your students in a single file line to the cafeteria, you’re sure that you know all of their names by heart. They wave goodbye once they’re settled in the cafeteria and you make your way towards the staff lounge. Upon entering, you scan the room to find Jaehyun sat at a table in the center of the room. His gaze lifts from his lunchbox to rest on you and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You give him a short wave, going to grab your lunch from the refrigerator before sitting beside him.
“How are your kids? Any trouble makers?” He probes once you’re comfortably seated.
“Oh, they’re all so wonderful! I can already tell this year is going to be amazing!”
“That’s great! I knew as soon as I saw you that your students would love you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” You flush, feeling small under his gaze.
“I mean, you just have this air of comfort about you? Plus, the kids always take better to a pretty face.” Your blush only deepens and you laugh nervously, gaze shifting to your lunch.
“What about you, Jaehyun? How long have you been working here?”
“This is my fourth year.” He hums happily, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve never had any issues with my students, although I do get a few proposals every year.”
“I’m not surprised.” You laugh, shovelling rice into your mouth. Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow at you, a smirk playing at his lips.
“I think you might give me some competition for most marriage proposals.”
“Hmmm, we’ll see. Although i’m not sure that’s a title we should fight for.”
“It’s nothing but a friendly competition, Y/n.” You shake your head, smiling slightly while packing up your lunch.
“I’ll see you later Jaehyun.”
“See ya!” He gives you a small nod, turning back to his lunch.
Day 6 [7:00 pm]
Jaehyun oftentimes wonders how and why he’s friends with the idiotic group of children he considers his closest friends. But now, sat on the floor of Doyoung’s nearly empty apartment with cookie crumbs covering the front of his shirt, he understands that he himself is one of those children.
“Hyung, I thought you were supposed to be mildly more responsible than the rest of us. It’s been like, what, a week since you moved in and you’re still not done unpacking?” Mark snickers from beside Jaehyun.
“Some of us have actual jobs that require them to be available most of the time, Mark.” Doyoung quips back, shoving the younger at the back of his head.
“Dude you can literally ask any of us for help, you know that right?” Johnny chimes in.
“Like I’d let any of you touch my belongings. Besides, you guys won’t know where to put anything.”
“Oh ye of little faith. Come on, why don’t we help right now!”
“Hold up.” Jaehyun sits straight up, brushing the crumbs from his shirt. “This is not what I agreed to! I’m exhausted from dealing with the kids all week, I don’t need any more exertion.”
Mumbles of agreement chime from around the room, Doyoung physically relaxing knowing that his belongings are no longer at risk of being tampered with; at least for now, that is. Jaehyun reaches for the pack of chocolate chip cookies in Sicheng’s grasp, nearly having to wrestle it out of his greedy hands. Sicheng finally releases the pack, causing Jaehyun to fall back on his ass earning a chorus of laughter from his friends.
“How are the kids this year anyways, Jae? Any wedding bells ringing?”
“Not yet, Tae.” He chuckles.
“Didn’t you mention that you were getting a new teacher?”
“Yea replacing that old asshole, right?”
“Ah, yea, they’re our new youngest staff member.” Jaehyun revealed.
“Ooooh are they cute?”
“They must be. Look! His ears are turning red!” The room once again erupts into laughter at the expense of Jaehyun. He looks around, gaze settling on a paper book that he then throws at whoever’s closest.
“Ow, c’mon man.” Yuta mumbles, rubbing his stomach.
“We’re just teasing you dude. I mean, it’s been like four years since you last dated someone, it’s about time you got back into the game.”
Jaehyun rolls his eyes in response, digging through the nearly empty pack of cookies in hopes of distracting himself. So what if he had been single for awhile? What was it that people said, married to your job? In fact, his last relationship ended right after he got his current job, something about him constantly smelling like baby powder now. Since then, he hasn’t really bothered to start a new relationship. Out of the odd single mother or father, Jaehyun doesn’t really come across people his age. He traded that part of his life to be surrounded by seven to eight year old children instead.
“Do you have a picture of them?”
“Uh, maybe, hold on a sec.” Jaehyun opens his photo app only to be faced with the picture of you that he most definitely had not been smiling at on his way over to Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a picture of you when you were on recess duty together. The two of you had been stood talking to one another, both keeping an eye on the children, when one of your students had ran over and tugged lightly on the side of your pants. You had immediately knelt down to be eye level with the child, asking her what was wrong. Blushing, the girl brought out a flower from behind her back, holding it out to you. You smiled gratefully and reached out to take the gift from her small hands. Jaehyun couldn’t help himself and immediately pulled out his phone, snapping a quick picture before turning away, feigning innocence. You had caught him, of course, and immediately demanded he send the picture to you.
“Hmmm, yea they’re cute.” Mark’s voice sounds directly next to Jaehyun’s ear. The boy cranes his neck to look over the elder’s shoulder for a peak at his phone screen.
“Oi, back off.” Jaehyun nudges Mark, turning his phone to show the rest of the group the photo. They hum in approval, a few exchanging nods and giving Jaehyun a sly thumbs up. Jaehyun feels his ears burn and he quickly snatches his phone back.
“Have you made a move yet?”
“Knowing our Jaehyun he probably already has.”
“Leave me aloooone.” Jaehyun whines, fully prepared to throw another book at the group.
“Sorry Jae, it’s just so fun to see you ears turn red. It’s so rare that we get to see you all flustered.”
“You’re not helping Johnny.”
“I know.”
Jaehyun decides that he really needs new friends who aren’t mentally, or physically, seven years old.
Day 33 [10:00 am]
A knock sounds at your classroom door, causing you to halt your current lesson. Your students immediately begin tittering amongst each other as you walk over to open the door, revealing a bashful Jaehyun stood in your doorway. You can hear your students shuffling in their seats, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever is at the door.
“Hey Y/n, I was wondering if you had any extra white board markers? My last one just ran out in the middle of class and I’ve been meaning to buy new ones but I keep forgetting.”
“Sure, Jaehyun, give me a second.” Jaehyun follows you into your classroom, a chorus of “ooooh’s” from your students echoing around the room. You immediately shush them, flushing at their teasing. You reach into your desk drawer, pulling out a new marker and handing it to him.
“Thanks, Y/n.” He smiles, the classroom again bursting with teasing sounds and you usher Jaehyun out the door. It takes you almost five minutes to calm down the kids, although they continue to bring up Mr. Jung until the lunch bell rings. Once you drop the class off at the cafeteria, you heave a sigh of relief, happy to be free of their taunting. Jaehyun greets you in the staff’s lounge, sliding a rice cake over to you.
“What’s this for?”
“A little thank you for the new marker.”
“Ah really, it was no problem. But why didn’t you just go to someone on your floor.”
“Why, I wanted to visit you, of course! You’re worth the perilous trek.”
You roll your eyes. “Ah yes, the treacherous single flight of stairs, how brave of you.”
Jaehyun points his chopsticks at you, dropping a piece of chicken in the process. “Hey, you never know when you could trip and injure yourself. People fall and break their necks on those death traps all the time.”
“Lovely, Jaehyun. As if I wasn’t already afraid of falling down stairs.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall.” He grins, reaching over to pat you on the head. You swat away his hand, ready to reprimand him for messing up your hair when Ana pulls out the chair next to you, calling for both of your attention.
“What are you two lovebirds up to?”
“L-lovebirds?” You choke out, eyes widening at her question.
“Haven’t you heard, you two are the new hot couple of the school.” She giggles, taking a bite out of her egg sandwich. “Even the students are gossiping! My, it’s so exciting, we haven’t had a school couple since Suzy and Haseul left.”
“We - I mean we’re not a couple…”
“Oh but you will be soon, I call it.”
Jaehyun, noticing your discomfort, cuts her off. “C’mon Ana, give it a rest for now. We’re just trying to eat our lunch in peace.”
She raises her arms in surrender, returning her focus back to her sandwich, voicing her complaints to the room. “I swear, the school lunches just seem to be worsening every year, more and more parents are making lunches for their kids.”
“It’s not that bad, they’re still better than anything my school provided when I was a kid.”
“Hm, little baby Jaehyunie must’ve been so cute.” You tease, pinching his cheeks.
“Ay, come on now.” He whines, ears turning red at your ministrations.
“Well, I better head out now, you kids have fun.” Ana stands up, wiping the crumbs from her hands.
You both bid her farewell, Jaehyun’s fingers tapping a soft beat onto your wrist.
“I’m sorry if all that coupley stuff made you uncomfortable. We’re all kind of like a big family here so most of us are used to that kind of teasing. You’ll probably get used to it, but if you ever feel uncomfortable again just let me know, ok?” He gives you a warm smile, his hand now settled over top your own. You smile, thanking him in return.
[3:50 pm]
You’re sat in the entryway to the school, one of your students sat beside you. You’re attempting to distract her, but it’s been twenty minutes since her mother was meant to pick her up and you can tell that she’s growing nervous.
“Mommy’s running a little late, Bora, don’t worry.” You attempt to soothe her, patting her lightly on the head. “Here, I have some markers and paper, why don’t you draw me a picture of your family?” She smiles at your suggestion, nodding happily while reaching for the supplies. You ask her about each figure drawn, attempting to engage her and keep her attention off of her absent mother.
“What are you two still doing out here?” You look up to see Jaehyun stood over you, smiling down at the two of you.
“I’m drawing, Mr. Jung! Look, there’s me and my little brother and my mommy!”
“Wow, you’re quite the artist!” He crouches down in front of you, leaning on your knees to get a better view of her drawings.
“Thank you!” She giggles. “Teacher’s keeping me company while I wait for my mommy to come pick me up.”
“Oh, well that’s very kind of teacher!”
“Yea! Teacher’s the best!” Bora leans over to hug you tightly and you laugh, wrapping your arms around her.
“Yea, they really are.” Jaehyun gazes up at the two of you, completely enamored. Your eyes sparkle in the sunlight, happiness radiating off of you.
“Mr. Jung!” Bora cries, poking him in the cheek. Leaning in closer to Jaehyun, she beckons him in closer. He leans in and she cups her hands around her mouth. “Are you and teacher dating?” She questions in a poor attempt at a whisper.
“No, Bora, at least not yet.” He whispers.
“But I want to marry you Mr. Jung.” She pouts.
“Maybe in a few years, ok?’ He chuckles. He grins up at you slyly, holding up two fingers. His second confession.
“Bora, baby I am so sorry, traffic was terrible!” A young woman comes rushing over to you, immediately sweeping her child into her arms.
“That’s ok mommy! Teacher and Mr. Jung kept me company.”
Her mother turns to face you, relief evident on her face. “Thank you so much for taking care of Bora, and I’m sorry for being so late.”
“That’s ok!” You smiled. “Just give me a call next time, you should have my number.”
“Right, of course, again I’m so sorry. I’ll be on time from now on.”
“Have nice night, ma’am! Bora, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye teacher! Bye Mr. Jung!”
Jaehyun gets up from his spot on the ground to stand beside you, both of you waving goodbye to the little girl. He can’t help but to gaze at you, heart practically on his sleeve. The way you treat your students so kindly, always sure to show them affection all while keeping an appropriately firm hand.
“Looks like we can go home—”
“Do you want to get something for dinner—” You both speak at the same time, laughing following shortly after.
“Isn’t it too early for dinner?” You question, checking the time on your phone.
“Factor in travel time plus walking around a little, we’ll find a restaurant right before the dinner rush.” Figuring why not? you nod in agreement, heading back inside to gather your belongings.
[4:45 pm]
So, maybe it is still a little too early to have dinner. And by a little too early you mean almost a full hour before you normally would eat. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind, however, happily pulling you along the fairly empty streets. You look upon him fondly, following him wherever he goes. Not that you had much choice considering how firmly his hand grasps yours.
It’s inevitable, the way your heart flutters whenever his gaze locks with yours. Sure, the boys you had met in the past were attractive, but Jaehyun’s pure beauty is utterly incomparable. Not to mention his affinity with children and all around gentille manner. If you were being completely honest, Jaehyun is your ideal man, and he’s practically fallen right into your lap. Now if only you could act upon your feelings…
“How about chicken and beer?” Jaehyun suggests, stopping in front of a restaurant.
“Jae, it’s still so early, I’m barely hungry!”
“Fine, why don’t we get takeout instead and then head back to my apartment?”
“Hmmm, trying to get me all to yourself Mr. Jung?”
“Oh god Y/n, please don’t call me that.” He laughs, pulling you inside the restaurant. “Now come on, what do you want to order?”
[5:30 pm]
Jaehyun’s apartment is almost excruciatingly neat, something you honestly didn’t expect from the boy. His classroom is almost always in a state of disarray, a trait you had assumed translated over into his home life. Instead, you’re faced with pristine white walls, not a single book out of place, all stacked neatly on the shelves lining the walls. Your shoes are lined up in the entryway, inked drawings hanging around the apartment. You’re stood gazing at one of said drawings when Jaehyun comes to stand behind you after placing your food on the counter.
“These are all done by my friend Taeyong.” He hums, placing his hands on your shoulders.
“He’s quite talented, does he do commissions?”
“Oh definitely, I bet I could even get you a discount!”
You laugh, pulling him back over to the counter. He grabs some plates from his cabinets as you unload the chicken. Each plate is decorated with a floral design around the brim, a fact you’re sure to take note of. You take a bite of chicken, humming at the savory taste. Meanwhile, Jaehyun’s hands are getting sweaty. It has been so long since Jaehyun dated someone, let alone invited someone over to his apartment who wasn’t a part of his friend group. Especially someone he held such a strong attraction to. He found himself unable to meet your gaze, quite the 180 from his usually confident demeanor.
“Jaehyun, did you know that your ears turn red fairly easily?”
Jaehyun immediately drops his chopsticks, bringing his hands to cover his ears. Of course his ears are red, they always are around you. You laugh at his reaction, muttering a soft cute as you turn back to your chicken.
“I’m not cute,” he pouts, “I’m extremely handsome.”
“You can be both, Jae. In fact, you are.” Jaehyun’s hands are still over his ears, fully aware that they’ve only grown redder. “Eat your chicken, it’s gonna grow cold.”
Day 76 [8:30 am]
“Oh, Jaehyun! Just the teacher I’ve been looking for!” Jaehyun abruptly stops his conversation with one of the third grade teachers. He smiles, turning to face you.
“What’s up?”
“I’m trying to take the kids on a field trip to the science museum but the principal told me I need another teacher to come with me since I’m new. I was hoping you’d be ok with coming along. Our classes get along well too.”
Jaehyun thinks it’s rather odd that the principal is requiring you to bring another teacher along. He didn’t have to do that during his first year. He chooses to shrug it off for now, exchanging his confusion for relief. Thank god you were comfortable enough around him to ask for his help.
“I’d be glad to! I take my classes there every year anyways.”
“Oh, thank you so much, you’re a real lifesaver!”
“Of course, we can discuss the details later at lunch today, yea?
You give him a quick hug before dashing off to your classroom.
“Aren’t you guys dating yet?”
“Not yet.” Jaehyun smiles softly, gazing at your retreating figure.
Day 82 [8:30 am]
The students arrive half an hour earlier than usual so that they have enough time to explore the museum. You and Jaehyun are ushering your students onto the bus, chaperones already assigned and sat with their groups. The final student gets on the bus and you and Jaehyun follow. Considering that there are two classrooms plus chaperones on the bus, there are only two seats left, sat next to one another. Jaehyun allows you to sit first, giving you the window seat, and promptly plops himself down next to you.
He leans down to whisper in your ear. “I heard you got another confession yesterday. What does that make, five?”
“Are you still keeping track of that?” You snort. “I’m not even counting anymore.”
“Of course, I need to keep my status as most popular teacher!”
“Well if you must know, I’ve actually gotten six confessions.”
“I thought you stopped keeping track?” He pokes your side, teasing.
“You’re just jealous I have more confessions than you.” You huff.
“…maybe so.” Jaehyun sits back with a pout. “Just wait a few weeks, I’ll take you over.” He gazes over at you out of the corner of his eye, hoping to have pulled a reaction out of you. You’re already looking at him, smiling stupidly at his sulking figure. Jaehyun’s heart flutters, an almost foreign feeling after going so long without a relationship. If there’s one thing his friends are actually right about, it’s that he doesn’t get out enough. Whenever they ask him to hang out to drink, he opts to stay in, worried that one of his student’s parents might see him. Not an ideal situation, seeing your child’s teacher stumbling around in a drunken stupor. It had happened once during his first year of teaching, and Jaehyun is not about to let that happen again. Thus, he rarely has the ability to meet new people, let alone a potential lover. Then here comes you, the cute new teacher who steals his heart in less than five minutes. Damn his vulnerability.
[12:00 pm]
The students have congregated at the museum cafeteria, slightly exhausted from their morning spent running around the museum but still excited nonetheless. Jaehyun is sat next to you, both of your groups situated around the table. Happy chatter flits around the room, making it hard to hold a proper conversation. Jaehyun is forced to lean into your side so that you are able to hear one another, not that either of you mind. A light tug at the back of his shirt calls for Jaehyun to turn around, one of his students stood behind him.
“What’s up buddy?” He laughs lightly tickling the boy’s stomach. The boy giggles, breaking off into a long winded spiel about how exciting his day has been so far. Jaehyun diligently listens to every word, reacting when necessary and answering all of the boys questions to the best of his ability. You can’t help to gaze fondly at the two of them, heart fluttering at the sight (but then again, when doesn’t your heart flutter when Jaehyun is around).
“You’re my favorite teacher!” The boy finally states, hugging Jaehyun before skipping away. Jaehyun turns to you giving you a pointed look and a smirk.
“That does not count.” You state, rolling your eyes.
“Oh it totally does, this competition is for who’s the favorite teacher and he said I’m his favorite.”
“Yes but we’re only counting confessions.”
“Hey, we never made a rule like that.”
“Fine, I’ll count it. But only because you’ll still be behind me.”
“Only by one.” He teases, leaning over to snatch a piece of meat from your plate. You swat away his hand, Jaehyun laughing jovially in response.
[1:00 pm]
“All right kids, get back with your chaperones, we only have a few more hours left at the museum!” A chorus of groans sound throughout the museum cafeteria, your students not quite yet ready to leave. You round up your own group of kids, counting meticulously to make sure they’re all still present. The students are all fluttering about, fully energized from their lunch. A few have taken to hanging off your legs, giggling madly.
“How much sugar did you monkeys eat?” You laugh, leaning down to gently pry them off. “Come on, don’t you want to go back into the museum? We still haven’t gone to the weather room, I heard there’s a cool lightning exhibit.” Your students immediately let go of your legs, now wanting to explore the museum as soon as possible.
“Y/n!” You look up to see Jaehyun and his group of students coming towards you. “Heard you’re going to the weather room, we haven’t gone either and were hoping we could tag along.”
“I don’t know kids, do we want Mr. Jung to join us, I heard he’s a little smelly.”
“Hey! I am not smelly!”
Your students all giggle, taking great amusement in your back and forth.
“I think we should let them join, teacher! Mr. Jung is really handsome.” Bora sounds, a few of the other students in your group agreeing.
“Alright Mr. Jung, you can join our group but only because you’re so handsome.” You laugh, his ears reddening in embarrassment.
“Wow thank you guys so much.” He grins shyly. “Shall we go?”
You nod, gesturing for your students to follow close behind. Jaehyun sidles up to you, bumping your arm with his.
“Do you really think I’m smelly?” He whispers, half joking but also half worried you’ll say yes.
“Only a little,” you tease, “but, like, not in a bad way.”
“Ayyy, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, like, I guess…”
“I guess…” He repeats, egging you on.
“You smell nice.” You mumble, face flushed at your confession.
“Cute.” Jaehyun grins. “You smell nice too, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t, but thanks for the affirmation.”
You turn into the weather room, giving your students free reign to walk around while you keep a close eye on them. Jaehyun stations himself across the room so that you have the whole area covered, but that doesn’t keep him from shooting dumb faces at you from time to time.
“Teacher!” One of your students bounds up to you, beckoning for you to crouch down to his height.
“What’s up Taegeun?”
“Is Mr. Jung your boyfriend?” He asks shyly, fiddling with his hands.
“No, why do you ask?”
He perks up at your answer. “Good, because I want to be your boyfriend.” He states proudly, puffing out his chest.
“Hmmm, I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”
“That’s ok, I can wait.” He says, running back to his group of friends.
You stand back up and make eye contact with Jaehyun. You give him a smirk, holding up seven fingers. He glares back, shaking his head in mock anger at your popularity. You’ve stolen half the school’s hearts, including his own.
[2:35 pm]
The bus is waiting in front of the museum, a few students already sat on the vehicle. You’re standing by the doors, keeping count of the students entering the bus. Ticking off each student as they pass, you finally mark off the last one and make your way onto the bus. Jaehyun gestures for you to sit beside him, scooting over slightly to give you a little more room. You drop down into the seat, exhaustion radiating off of your slumped body.
“The kids tuckered you out, huh?”
“Mmm, just a little.” You hum, eyelids growing heavy.
“Here, you can lean on my shoulder. You have like forty-five minutes to take a nap.” He scoots a little closer, supplying you with the maximum amount of comfort he can. You thank him quietly, nuzzling into his side while leaning your head on his shoulder. Jaehyun looks down at you, admiring every eyelash, every freckle, every part of you his eyes can reach. He’s never been in love before, but he swears this is what it feels like.
Day 97 [9:00 pm]
Another Friday, and Jaehyun once again finds himself sat on Doyoung’s, now fully furnished, apartment. Even though there is a couch, Jaehyun arrived later than everyone else, thus he was left with the floor. His back is flush against the couch and Sicheng’s foot is currently kicking his head.
“Sicheng I’m going to kill you.” He snaps, reaching up to grab the boy’s foot.
“Only if you say you’ll go out with us tonight!”
“You know why I don’t want to!”
“Oh come on, Jae. It happened once years ago, what are the chances it’ll happen again?”
“Well that’s what I thought but look what happened.”
“Dude come on it’s been so long since you went out with us.” Johnny calls out, joining Sicheng in kicking the boy’s side. “Literally just come out with us this one night, we’ll never ask you again.”
Jaehyun hesitates.
“Look, if one of your parent’s sees you we’ll, I don’t know, we’ll pay for your dinner for a month.”
“Wait hold on we’re not agree—”
“Deal.” The thought of being seen by one of his student’s parents is terrifying, yes, but the thought of free dinner for a whole month far outways that potential embarrassment.
[10:00 pm]
Thankfully, his friends choose a more bar-like atmosphere instead of a full fledged club, knowing he probably wouldn’t be up for the high speed environment. There’s loud music playing, various games strewn around the building.
“We’re gonna head over to the pool table, you up for it?”
“I think I’m just gonna hang here for awhile, I’ll catch up with you later.”
A few of his friends head over to the pool table, leaving him at the bar. Jaehyun takes a sip of his drink, eyes scanning the room. He’s not really sure what he’s looking for; there’s not really much to find in the mass of sweaty bodies. His gaze travels to his friends making a bit of a scene by the pool table and he chuckles lowly, amused by their idiocy. He quickly looks away, however, because Ten is about to climb over the table, ready to grab Doyoung by the collar. Not a sight he wants to see. Scanning the room, he looks past the seating area, only to do a double take. There, sat on top of one of the many square tables, is a completely inebriated you, head thrown back in laughter at something your friend just said. The ends of his lips curl up in a smile and he observes your figure for a moment. Downing the rest of his drink, he places the empty glass on the bartop and stands to make his way over to you. Your friends must take notice of his towering figure because they all start frantically waving their arms at you, gesturing towards his approaching figure. You look up with a start and, upon seeing him, abruptly climb off the table. He rushes over to you, stabilizing your shaky figure.
“Mr. Jung, I did not expect to see you here. Like, never.” You giggled happily, poking his cheeks.
“Ah, Y/n, how much have you had to drink?”
“You know how many of the kids have confessed to me?”
“Yea?”
“That many.”
“Holy shit.” He mumbled, studying your face. He turns to look at your friends who are all not so subtly checking him out. They turn away at his gaze, tittering amongst themselves before he calls for their attention. “Can I steal Y/n away from you guys?”
“Of course!” One of them giggles. “In fact you can steal me away too if you’d like.”
“Sorry, I only need Y/n.” He smiles kindly, already wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you away..
“Keep our baby safe!” They call after your retreating figures.
“Where are we going?” You mutter, clutching onto his bicep.
“We’re going to get some water into your system and then I’m taking you home.”
“Aw c’mon, you should have some fun! I know you haven’t been out since your first year. Have you even had something to drink yet?”
“I have and right now your safety is more important than me having fun.”
“Ayyy, I’m not gonna let you not have fun because of me. Are your friends here? Can I meet them?”
“Y/n I should really be getting you—”
“Ayo Jae, who’s the cutie?”
“Johnny you dumbass that’s that new teacher he’s been pining after.”
Before Jaehyun could steer you away from his rowdy group of friends you break out of his grasp, heading over to the pool table.
“Shit.” He mumbles under his breath, jogging over to you. Yuta’s already got his arm around you, engaging you in an animate conversation about god knows what. He sighs heavily, pulling you from his friend’s grasp, much to Yuta’s protests.
“Come on let’s get you some water.”
“Jae you can leave ‘em with us while you get the water. We want to get to know your new coworker anyways.” Yuta says with a wink, pulling you back into his side. Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, Jaehyun hurries to get you a glass of water so that he could rescue you from his friends as soon as possible.
Through your haze you barely register the men surrounding you. They chat happily, asking you about work and, most importantly, your relationship with Jaehyun. You don’t take the questions particularly seriously, too drunk to actually pay attention to what they’re saying. An arm wraps around your waist and you turn your head slightly to find Jaehyun holding a glass of water out to you.
“Here, drink.” He commands softly, raising his eyebrows. You part your lips, too hazy to reach out and take the glass. Jaehyun rolls his eyes but brings the glass to your lips nonetheless. Slowly, he tilts it back, examining how your lips close around the rim as your eyes close. Your cheeks are rosy, this time not out of embarrassment, and your hair’s a bit of a mess. Still beautiful, though.
After a few sips your eyelids flutter open, signalling that you’ve had your fill. He lowers the glass, eyes locked, time at a standstill. Slowly, he raises his hand to run a thumb over your bottom lip, teasing at the plump flesh. Before either of you can make a move, Mark stumbles into Jaehyun, pushing him into you in the process. You giggle as Jaehyun attempts to steady you, glaring at the younger.
“Ok, time to get you home.” He says sternly, pulling you away from his friends.
“Ok.” You giggle, waving goodbye cutely. His friends all coo over you and Jaehyun has to keep himself from doing the same. Happy to have finally gotten you out of the vicinity of the bar, Jaehyun quickly hails a cab and pulls you in after him. You situate yourself as close to him as possible, snuggling into his warmth. You’re slightly more sober now although still a little hazy, and Jaehyun is like a walking space heater. A heavy sigh falls past his lips but he still wraps his arm around you, basking in the comfort you provide.
“You gotta wake up now Y/n. We’re at your place.”
You hum sleepily in response, clambering out of the car. Jaehyun practically has to carry you up to your apartment, making sure you drink more water and wash up before you flop onto your bed. Smiling fondly, he pats your head and leaves your apartment. He wonders if you’ll remember anything tomorrow morning.
Day 100 [3:20 pm]
“Ok kids, we’ll have reading time for the last ten minutes.” Your students all rush to pull out their books and you give out a small sigh of relief, happy that you’ll be able to relax. Before you can get too comfortable, however, a knock sounds at the door. Groaning under your breath you stand up to open it. You’re immediately faced with Jaehyun and his entire class.
“What’s this for?” You gasp, stepping back to let them in.
“Do you know how many days it’s been since you started working here?”
“No?”
“100!” He claps excitedly, grabbing a cake from one of his students, a big 100 written in frosting on top. Both your students and his cheer happily, mostly at the sight of the cake but also because of you, and you gladly take the cake, cheeks turning red.
“You have pretty poor timing, Jaehyun,” you whisper into his ear. “The kids have to leave soon and they’re not going to be happy once they find out they won’t get any cake.”
“I know, I was hoping it’d be a boost in my popularity.” He said with a wink.
“You’re the one who brought the cake, we’re both going down with this one.” You say pointedly, poking him in the chest.
Your students intermingle amongst themselves, books long forgotten in all the excitement. After a little chatting the bell rings and your students race out the door. Thankful that they weren’t too upset by the lack of cake, you make your way back to your room only to find Jaehyun already there, cake cut into slices. He holds a plate out to you, gesturing for you to sit on the desk beside him. Gratefully, you take the plate and sit down, digging into the cake.
“Oh my god this is delicious.” You moan, savoring in the taste of the fluffy dessert.
“Mmm, I know right? Paris Baguette really knows what they’re doing.” He hums happily in agreement. “You know, two of my students have confessed to me since the museum.”
“Damn, so we’re tied now huh.” You pout jokingly.
“You’re about to be winning again.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” You question, turning to face him.
“I know this is supposed to be a competition and everything, but you’re probably going to win anyways—”
“Hey we’re tied right now—”
“Let me finish ok?” You shut up, letting him finish his mini speech. “As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted,” you roll your eyes at that, “We’re not going to be tied anymore because I’m going to confess to you. Or, well, I am confessing to you.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Oh come on Y/n, it’s obvious we like each other, the whole school has been waiting practically with baited breath for us to get together!”
“No I know all that. I’m just surprised that you’re confessing so early into the year! You were taking this competition so seriously I thought you’d make me be the one to do it.”
“I can’t believe you Y/n.” He scoffs, leaning back on his hands.
“What? A competition’s a competition. Oh well, looks like I’m winning again.” You shrug, turning back to your cake, a teasing grin stuck on your face. Jaehyun sits there for a minute, shocked at your confession. Once you finish your cake, however, Jaehyun gets a brilliant idea. A mischievous smile creeps across his face and you stare at him in mild fear.
“What exactly are you thinking of doi—” You get cut off by Jaehyun shoving the rest of the cake in your face.
“You’re dead Mr. Jung.” Wiping the cake off of your face, you move to wipe it all over his face. But, before you get the chance, Jaehyun places his lips over yours in a deep kiss. Your lips move together in harmony, the kiss slightly sticky from all the cake residue. Eventually, he pulls away, grinning at you with cake crumbs and frosting covering his lips.
“Sweet.” He chuckles, licking his lips. You grab his cheeks with your cake covered hands and smoosh them together.
“Yes,” you laugh, “very.”
#and with that i may never write again#nct#nct au#nct scenario#nct imagine#jung jaehyun#jaehyun#jaehyun imagine#jaehyun scenario#jaehyun au#nct fluff#jaehyun fluff#nct teacher au#jaehyun teacher au
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